


Fight Forever

by Armin_05



Series: We'll Get There [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, As in so slow it may not even happen in this story, Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor accidentally finds himself Deviant Leader, Connor and Simon are both Traumatized, F/F, F/M, M/M, Markus/Connor (Onesided), Markus/Simon (Onesided), Minor OCs as plot demands - Freeform, Post Pacifist Best End (sans Simon), Simon dies at Stratford, Slow Burn, no beta we die like men, so does simon, tags to be updated as author writes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-06-27 03:52:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 52,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15677484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Armin_05/pseuds/Armin_05
Summary: Connor didn't expect to play Deviant Leader while Markus had the world watching his every move. Simon didn't expect to ever wake up, after Stratford Tower.When androids start going missing, neither of them expected to be kidnapped by the Crimson Vipers gang, where androids only exist for three purposes; to fight, to serve, and to die.It's a dangerous game for survival, where resets are as common as stars in the night sky, and fighting rings are a necessity. If they slip up once, they'll be killed and drained of Thirium for the gang's copious drug empire.Escape seems impossible, and being a machine? It's never looked better.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Welcome! This is my second story on AO3, and I'm pretty excited. I've never played DBH, but I've watched a few walkthroughs and I love the story. So I thought I'd contribute to the fandom, finally.  
> A quick walkthrough of the different styles I used to show different things:  
> [THIS IS A WARNING, SUCH AS FOR BATTERY AND STRESS LEVELS. ALSO, THIRIUM IF IT COMES UP WITHOUT REBOOTING]  
> \- This is a flashback, will always be in italics -  
> Italics without - is just thoughts  
> THIS IS AN OBJECTIVE  
> >>THIS IS A SUBOBJECTIVE  
> 

NOV 12, 2038

HART PLAZA  
TIME: 12:28.06 AM (EST.)

Connor stared out at the crowd of androids gathered in Hart Plaza. Markus was still speaking, but Connor couldn't hear him. The gun in his back pocket hung heavy. That had been too close. He'd almost killed Markus.

  
Again.

  
[STRESS LEVEL: 78]

  
Nobody was paying him any attention, but Connor still felt like everyone was staring at him. Judging him for his past. Judging him for what he'd just almost done.

  
What Amanda would have used him to do.

  
If Kamski hadn't put a back exit in the Zen Garden...

  
His hands shook, and he regarded them with almost detached interest, not even twenty-four hours ago that would never have happened. Connor shoved his hands in his pockets.

 

“We are alive!” Markus' voice broke through his thoughts. “And now, we are FREE!”

  
The androids cheered. In the crowd, Connor spotted the face of a random PL600 with blond hair.

  
His breath caught in his chest, despite the fact that he didn't need to breathe. Cold rushed through every inch of him and something was squeezing his thirium pump-

  
[STRESS LEVEL: 84]

 

_Daniel._

  
Was this guilt?

  
The memories of his very first day active rushed through his head in less than a second. The wind, the noise-

  
_– “I trusted you.” –_

 

Connor struggled to force the memories away, only for the face of another PL600 to run through his head.

  
The unnamed PL600 atop Stratford Tower.

  
_– A gunshot –_

  
_– Then –_

  
_– Nothing –_

  
_– Darkness –_

 

_– Cold –_

  
_– Why did he feel cold –_

  
_– His chest was tight, he couldn't breaTHE –_

  
_– He was_ scared _–_

  
The feeling of dying, even when it wasn't Connor who died.

  
_So many deviants died because of me._

  
Both Daniel and the unnamed PL600 were dead.

  
Well, dead in the sense that Connor didn't activate them when searching for Jericho's location. But they _could_ be, maybe, if-

  
Markus lightly touched his arm, interrupting his line of thought. Connor hadn't realized that his speech was over.

  
“Come on,” Markus said quietly. The WR400 and PJ500 _– North and Josh –_ stood behind him, eyeing Connor with mild looks of distrust. “We need to find places for our people to stay tonight.”

  
_Our_ people.

  
Connor didn't understand how Markus could trust him so easily. It wasn't right, it wasn't _logical._

  
Connor wants to ask how Markus does it.

  
Instead, Connor asked, “How can I help?”  
  
  
  
NOV 15, 2038  
ABANDONED APARTMENT COMPLEXES  
TIME: 5:13.35 AM (EST.)

  
From the second Connor was off that stage, he was moving, constantly. So much had to be done, it was a good thing androids didn't to sleep.

 

(He first went to visit Hank, at the Chicken Feed Truck. He didn't get to stay, though.)

 

(Then he made sure he got some sort of disguise. His Cyberlife uniform just reminded him of Amanda and being almost entirely at her mercy, in more ways than one.)

 

(He almost went for the clothes he used to infiltrate Jericho, but those had also been given to him by Cyberlife)

  
(So he ended up keeping the shirt, pants, and shoes from his uniform. He just got an old “slouch” beanie and an old knitted sweater from the abandoned clothing store in Ferndale)

  
Markus, as the head of the rebellion, had the President herself, the Senate, media, FBI, the Android Rights Act to draft, and so much more to juggle. After a couple of days, it became obvious that he was struggling with it all. North and Josh devoted all their time to helping take the load off after that.

  
Which had left Connor with the freed androids. He felt slightly overwhelmed at first – he'd deviated only _days_ ago, he didn't know what to do! – but if Markus could do all he was doing, Connor could handle a few (thousand) deviants.

  
Currently, Connor sat in the lobby of one of the abandoned apartment complexes the androids had claimed as their home, mulling it over. After an hour, he had a plan. Or an idea of one, anyway.

  
The first on his list of ideas flared up in his vision:

  
OBJECTIVE: FIND HOMES FOR REMAINING DEVIANTS

  
>>BUDDY SYSTEM

  
They'd been working on this one since Hart Plaza. They found the abandoned apartment complex that Connor currently sat in surprisingly close to Jericho, and two more complexes besides. With a bit of cleaning and a way to get electricity for chargers, the complexes could very well serve as the androids' permanent home in Detroit. It was sheltered from most humans, and Connor had only seen one police car patrolling even remotely close by.

  
Markus had claimed a small Cyberlife distribution center, located a couple miles from the complexes, as his office while he continued dealing with the media. He and North and Josh were there constantly. The last time Connor had seen any of them had been just after they'd found the complexes.

  
Connor looked up as an AX400 walked into the lobby. Guilt shot through him at the sight of her. She looked at Connor, smiled and nodded in greeting, even as she walked past to start helping with the cleaning that he could hear all around them. Connor nodded back with a weak smile, swallowing to keep the lump that had somehow appeared in his throat down.

  
Directly after Hart Plaza, about thirty androids had returned to their former owners, who had welcomed them back with open arms and a promise to always think of the android as a person, not a servant. Those androids had seamlessly become part of the human families, and while happy to help work on the apartment complexes, wanted to return to their families each night. The android was probably one of those, but the only person Connor could think of was Kara.

  
He didn't know if she had made it to the border, but he hoped so. Back in the church, after Markus had told him that he trusted Connor, Connor had spotted Kara and the little YK model she had with her sitting on a bench, and had made sure to apologize and wish them luck.

  
It didn't keep the guilt away.

  
[STRESS LEVELS: 68]

  
Connor shook his head and stood.

  
Anti-android protestors remained in small groups, scattered about Detroit. They hadn't shown up in Ferndale yet, but it didn't mean they wouldn't. Connor automatically pulled his coin out of his pocket and started flicking it back and forth while his sub-objective showed up in the corner of his vision again.

  
He put the coin away as he set about cleaning an old bedroom as he mentally contacted a few androids. They could help him get a buddy system set up.

  
While he waited for them to answer, he thought of a few pointers for their system.

  
No android should go anywhere alone, and they had to check in with a friend every so often when they went out. If they missed the check-in time the friend was supposed to wait two hours, if they didn't call in that time, then Connor would send the missing androids' info to every other deviant, so they could be on the lookout. They couldn't do anything else.

  
It wasn't a perfect plan, but it didn't have to be. It just had to work until androids were legally made sentient beings.

 

NOV 19, 20138  
FERNDALE CYBERLIFE DISTRIBUTION CENTER  
TIME: 10:55.43 PM (EST.)

 

OBJECTIVE: ELECTRICITY

  
>>PUBLIC CHARGING STATIONS

  
Androids didn't need to eat or sleep – though they _could_ – but they did need to charge every once in a while. The abandoned complexes obviously didn't have power, and Connor heard more than a few worries about it over the course of the last few days. No one's battery had died. “Yet” was the operative word here though.

  
Connor had thought about calling Markus to tell him about the battery situation, but something about calling first made his skin crawl.

  
(He'd almost panicked the first time he felt the sensation, thankfully, no one was around to see him.)

  
He didn't want to annoy Markus or put more on him than he could take, even with North and Josh to help. So he hadn't called. It was Connor's mission to get the androids everything they needed for New Jericho.

  
And he _always_ accomplished his mission.

  
Speaking of Markus, he'd actually called Connor himself, just moments ago, inviting Connor to join him in the meeting he and North and Josh were having to go over what they needed to do in the future. Connor didn't know why Markus wanted _him_ at the meeting, but he couldn't say no. Not to Markus.

  
Connor walked out of the apartment building he'd been working in, tripping over the bar on the ground where the door had been. He quickly glanced around to make sure no one had seen him, before brushing some dust off his jacket and continuing on his way. It wasn't the first time he'd tripped today. Earlier he'd tripped over a rock that he'd miscalculated the mass of, and startled the poor AP700 standing with her back to Connor out of her wits.

  
A warning flashed up in his vision, a self-diagnostic, but he dismissed it without paying attention. He just needed to finish his mission. Connor could worry about his sudden klutziness later.

  
Though, it would probably be a good idea to tell Markus about the electricity problem if Connor could get around the strange unease about calling. He could and would accomplish his mission without Markus' help, but if there wasn't too much going on, Markus could make it much easier.

  
He ducked his head and tugged his beanie down more as he made it closer to the main part of Ferndale. Just because most humans had evacuated, and the majority of those remaining were friendly didn't mean he shouldn't be careful, especially when his ability to defend himself was likely compromised. Being around the androids who had deviated before him, and hearing their stories had taught him a healthy wariness of humans.

  
He passed an old police car and thought about Hank. Was the gray-haired lieutenant doing okay? Had he evacuated with most of the humans? Connor had been meaning to contact him, but everything had happened so fast and he'd been so busy he hadn't had time. He hoped Hank was okay though.

  
Connor made it to the Cyberlife center without trouble. The glass door swung open silently as he stepped inside. The lights were on. A few of the platforms androids had been modeled on as if they were mannequins had been rearranged to make a circle. Markus sat on the one directly in front of Connor, facing away, towards the inside of the circle. North sat on his right, on the same platform, hair tucked into a beanie. Josh sat on Markus' left, on a different platform. Connor could see his face.

  
Connor walked up behind Markus. Josh appeared to be deep in thought, and Connor assumed Markus and North were similarly. That would explain why none of them appeared to hear Connor approach.

  
It would be so easy....

  
_“Accomplish your mission_ Connor _.”_ A voice that sounded suspiciously like Amanda whispered.

  
Connor froze, staring a hole with his eyes into the back of Markus' skull plating. Was she back? Was everything they had worked for about to fall apart? Barely daring to breathe or blink – in fact he wasn't – he ran systems check after programs check after systems check after programs check, waiting, waiting, _waiting_ for that pull to the Garden. Waiting for  _her_ to take over.

  
Nothing showed on the scans, but Connor didn't feel better.

  
Markus shifted, and the spell on him broke. Connor sucked in a deep breath, and Markus turned to face him while standing.

  
[STRESS LEVELS: 85]

  
Uncomfortably high. Connor forced himself to try and relax. North and Josh turned to look at Connor with mild caution showing on their faces.

  
That didn't help.

  
“You made it.” Markus greeted, smiling warmly. Any other day, his smile would have made Connor automatically relax. He just had that effect, but this wasn't any other day. “I didn't hear you come in.”

  
“You seemed pretty deep in thought.” Connor forced his voice box to sound calm and collected. His hands shook, just like they had that day upon the platform. He could barely think, except to keep Markus from worrying. His negotiations program had started up in the background. Connor didn't close it, as it was keeping an excellent poker face on.

  
It seemed to work. Markus gestured to the platforms. “Have a seat. We have a lot to discuss.”

  
Connor nodded, stepping between Markus' and Josh's platforms to sit on Josh's left. He could feel North's steely gaze on him as he sat, though he made sure not to look at her.

 

To Connor's left sat one more platform, completing the circle. Had Markus contacted anyone else about this meeting? Maybe it was North's seat and she just wasn't sitting there. He glanced at Markus, to see him watching the empty platform sadly. North put a hand on his shoulder and Markus shook his head, sitting up straighter.

 

“Alright, we're all here. Let's get started.”

  
So the extra platform wasn't North's seat then. Who could it be for? Connor mentally shook the thought away. It was a mystery for another time. A warning showed up in his vision again, but he dismissed it.

  
“We've made progress. A lot of progress. The humans support our movement, for the most part, we need to keep that up.” Markus stated, looking around at each of them in turn. “I've started the first draft of a new bill detailing android rights, but it's still a ways to go before it's anywhere near finished. We need to present a united and humane front if we want to keep our support long enough to pass this as soon as possible.

  
“I've thought on it some, and I have a few ideas for this. First, we should take last names. We will have to address people formally in the upcoming weeks. And it will make things easier if they can address _us_ formally. I will be Markus Manfred. Please let me know when you have chosen last names. Once the four of us have last names, we'll suggest it to the rest of Jericho.” He looked around at them again.

  
_Us_. Connor felt an emotion similar to the one he'd come to recognize as disgust, directed at himself. He didn't deserve Markus' trust. He didn't deserve to be here, to be included in this _us_. Markus should just shoot him where he sat and be done with him.

  
A quick Google search showed it to be hatred. Specifically, self-hatred.

  
For some reason, he thought of Hank. A few times when they had been working together, Hank would say something that hadn't – and still didn't – make much sense to Connor. He could almost hear Hank say it as if he was standing right next to Connor.

  
_“Mood.”_

  
It made no sense, and yet here it seemed to make perfect sense. Which in and of itself made no sense. _Of course_  self-hatred was a mood _it was literally how he was feeling-_

  
“And Connor,” Connor almost flinched, his negotiations program was still running though, and it kept him from jumping. He looked up at Markus, then quickly looked away upon meeting his different colored eyes. “How goes cleaning the apartments?”

  
North and Josh were both staring him down. Connor was suddenly reminded of how much he didn't like being the center of attention. He licked his lips, and his hands twitched up in an aborted motion to fix a tie he wasn't wearing. Instead, he fixed his shirt collar. His hands itched to pull out his coin, but he didn't want to annoy the other three.

  
_–“You're starting to tick me off with that coin, Connor.” –_

 

_–“Sorry Lieutenant.” –_

  
So he fiddled with the edges of his sleeves, instead.

  
“I-” Why was he here again? Connor blinked, glanced at North and Josh, noticed their LEDs.

  
_Oh, right._

  
“It's fine. We've gotten enough clean rooms and old furniture for the android children to sleep in, and their families, if they didn't have a human family to return to.” He said.

  
North raised an eyebrow, scowling. “Did you allow any of the children to return to human families?”

  
Connor glanced at her. “I- yes?”

  
Her scowl deepened. “Why? They're human! Humans don't really care about us.”

  
“North.” Markus admonished quietly. They stared each other down for a minute, North's LED blinking yellow. After a moment, they turned to face Connor again. North took a deep breath.

  
“What did you do to ensure their safety?” She asked. She still looked mildly angry, but calmer.

  
“I had another android go check on them every day for a week to ensure their safety. This weekend a few androids will go to check on them again, just to be sure.” Connor shifted slightly under her gaze. “Those who didn't leave were obviously adopted by some other androids.” He added, hoping she'd look away.

  
She didn't.

  
[STRESS LEVELS: 80]

  
Instead, his objective flared up in his vision briefly, and he almost cursed himself for forgetting it.

  
“Markus...” He began quietly, feeling a new sensation in his stomach area. Almost like there were things fluttering. Markus had started to turn away but turned back when Connor spoke up. His bi-colored eyes seemed to stare into Connor's non-existent soul.

  
Another warning showed up, and he blinked to dismiss it with annoyance. He was fine.

  
“Yes?”

  
“If - if it's not too much, we need electricity,” Connor stated, as firmly as he could. He forced himself to face Markus' eyes. “We only have so long unti-i-i-i-l-” His voice box spluttered, and then gave out entirely. Connor found himself facing the shocked stares from all three Jericho leaders, he himself staring back in just as much confusion.  
The warning he'd been ignoring for the past hour showed up again. Finally, he paid attention to what it said.

  
[BATTERY LEVEL: 10%]

  
Oh.

  
Well then.

  
Connor slowly closed his eyes as a wave of what he could only describe as exhaustion – Androids don't get tired – swept over him. His chin hit his chest, and his shoulders slumped.

  
<<LOW POWER MODE ACTIVATED>>

  
<<ALL NON-ESSENTIAL SYSTEMS SHUTTING DOWN>>

  
“Connor!” Markus exclaimed. He heard gasps of shock from North and Josh. Connor wanted to reassure them, but he couldn't move.

  
How had he worn his battery down so fast? Connor was _built_ to be better than every android before him. That _included_ battery life.

  
Something grabbed his hand, and despite the exhaustion, Connor jerked slightly as the interface started.

  
[BATTERY LEVEL: 7%]

  
_“Connor! What happened?”_

  
_“I- my apologies.”_

  
[STRESS LEVELS: 85]

  
[BATTERY LEVEL: 4%]

  
Unbidden, memories of the Stratford Tower deviant that he had probed jumped to the forefront of his thoughts. If Markus saw them, he didn't mention it.

  
_“I seem to have slipped into Low Power Mode.”_

  
He heard Markus mutter a quiet curse out loud.

  
“What happened?” North demanded. She sounded angry again, and Connor would have flinched if he was able.

  
“He needs a charger. Go get the one from the back room.” Markus ordered. Determination sat in every word he said. Connor's thirium pump skipped a beat.

  
He put it down to his battery charge, even though that was mildly concerning.

  
Two sets of footsteps set off towards the back of the Center.

  
_“You're gonna be okay, Connor.”_

<<[WARNING: BATTERY CHARGE CRITICAL]>>

  
<<SHUT DOWN SEQUENCE INITIATED>>

 

_“I know.”_


	2. A Quick Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor wakes, walks to the complexes, to then turn around and walk right back to the Center. Or tries, emotions get in the way -\\(-_-)/-

NOV 21, 2038  
FERNDALE CYBERLIFE DISTRIBUTION CENTER  
TIME: 4:32.18 AM (EST.)

<<REBOOTING>>  
[BATTERY LEVEL: %100]  
[THIRIUM LEVELS: %78]  
SYSTEMS CHECK - OK  
[STRESS LEVELS: 10%]  
<<CHECKING FOR CORRUPTED FILES>> NO CORRUPTED FILES FOUND  
<<CHECKING FOR CHASSIS DAMAGE>> NO DAMAGE FOUND  
<<CHECKING FOR BIO-COMPONENT DAMAGE>> NO DAMAGE FOUND

…......

<<REBOOTING VISUAL OPTICS>>

Connor slowly opened his eyes. Harsh light filtered in and everything was fuzzy. He blinked as his eyes adjusted. His surroundings cleared and he found himself staring at a white ceiling. Bright lights glared down.

<<REBOOTING SENSORY AUDIO OPTICS>>

His hearing slowly returned, static sounded. As the static faded, a high-pitched ringing took its place. After a moment the ringing faded. A slight hum sounded all around him instead.

<<REBOOTING NON-ESSENTIAL FUNCTIONS>>

He twitched his fingers and took a deep breath.

“Hello?” Connor called to the empty room. He pulled himself into a sitting position, disconnecting the charging cable from the side of his neck. He sat in the Ferndale Cyberlife Center, with androids laying all around him, each connected to a charger. Thirty-six of them exactly, not including Connor.

Last he remembered was passing out before North and Josh had found a charger. Markus had been interfacing with him...

He'd passed out. In front of Markus.

Embarrassment flooded through him, then confusion, as he shook his head. It wasn't like he'd had a choice, but Connor still felt like he'd let Markus down or something.

But anyway, this wasn't the time to be wondering about weird feelings. Connor twisted to check the android beside him -

And froze.

He hadn't noticed before, but the android laying next to him was a PL model.

_\- His hands closed around the deviant's wrist –_

_\- JERICHO flashed across his vision, white paint on a rusty metal surface –_

_- **BANG** –_

Connor shook off the memory. This PL model was neither Daniel or the Stratford rooftop deviant. It was okay.

Connor didn't... _avoid_ the PL models exactly, but he definitely didn't go out of his way to talk to any. Not that he went out of his way to talk to any deviants, really.

But... there was something different about the PLs, especially the PL600s. It was the model Connor had sinned against most, in his short life. Every other deviant he'd come across, he had done his best to work around his programming for.

But not Daniel.

And not the Stratford roof deviant.

Nothing around him moved, and he pulled up the date. Two days had passed since his battery had died. Not surprising. It took about forty-two hours for Connor to fully charge.

He glanced outside as he pulled up the time. He couldn't see out the windows.

Connor stood. He'd check over the other deviants, and then he'd leave. There was no point staying here.

He made the round quickly. They were exactly as he'd expected; simply charging.

Snow fell softly when he finally stepped outside. Connor couldn't feel it, but his processor informed him it had reached the low of 27 degrees. He tugged his beanie down and messed with his jacket sleeves. His coin sat in his jacket pocket, but he didn't pull it out. He needed to get back to the complexes.

He walked into the complex lobby after thirty minutes. Josh stood in the lobby, LED glowing yellow. Connor paused, Josh hadn't seen him yet, so he knocked on the wall. The PJ500 turned.

“Connor!” Josh exclaimed, smiling, his LED shifting to blue. Connor smiled back tentatively, tilting his head. Josh hadn't been so friendly two days ago.

“Hello, Josh.” He greeted. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting on a message.” Josh paused, “You know, you gave us quite the scare back there.”

“My apologies.” Connor murmured. “It wasn't my intention.”

“I know.” Josh sighed. His LED flickered yellow. He grinned, “Hey Connor, watch this.”

While Connor watched he turned and flicked the switch, and to Connor's amazement, the lights flickered on.

“What?” He breathed softly. Josh laughed.

“After we got you plugged in to charge, we all ran here, and found out just how many androids were close to passing out like you did,” Josh explained, motioning for Connor to follow as he walked farther into the complex, flicking on lights as he went. “There were about ten androids with 30 percent battery or less. We took them to the center and got them charging, and then a few more androids who needed it.

“Since then, well, as you can see, we've been working on the electricity problem.” The PJ500 gestured around them.

They walked into the corridor that went straight through the entire building. Three androids stood in a group chatting in the middle of the corridor. They turned as Josh and Connor got closer. An AX400, an AP300 and an HK400. Connor was pretty sure their names were Marie, Jake, and Chris, respectively. Josh stopped when they got to the group.

“Hey, Josh.” Chris greeted, brightening when he looked past Josh to Connor. “Oh, hey Connor! You're back!”

“Hello, Chris,” Connor replied, pushing back memories of the HK400 he'd had to interrogate. Chris wasn't Carlos Otiz's android.

“We were wondering when you'd get back. Markus said you wore your battery down.” Jake threw an arm around Connor's shoulders. Connor stiffened minutely but quickly relaxed. Physical touch wasn't something he was used to, but it was nice. He didn't miss Josh smiling at the two of them.

“Yes. I did.” Connor confirmed. “I'm sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for? It wasn't like it was something you could help.” Jake ruffled Connor's hair with his other hand. Connor leaned back slightly, startled. That was new. The feeling of fingers shifting his hair felt strange, but not bad. It actually felt... good. He smiled slightly.

“Anyway,” Marie butted in, grinning. She looked at Josh “the generator works?” Connor blinked at the two of them.

“We wouldn't have light if it didn't.” Josh retorted, but not unkindly. “I was actually taking Connor to see it. Would you three pass out chargers? And check for any rooms that the wiring needs fixing in.”

“Course.” Jake agreed, pulling his arm off Connor's shoulders. He motioned to Chris and Marie while walking backwards into another corridor. “C'mon then. We've got androids to get chargers too!”

The three walked off, though not before Chris lightly punched Connor's arm with a friendly grin, and Marie stepped up to hug him. Connor almost froze when she did, though managed to gather his wits in time to hug her back.

“We're glad you're back Connor.” She told him as she walked off. Josh laughed at Connor's shock.

“You're pretty popular. We had several androids asking where you were just after we got here two days ago.” Josh told him, while he opened the door to the back of the complex. Connor blushed. He supposed it made sense, but it was still strange to hear.

It was still dark out obviously, but Connor could see Markus standing by a generator, two WG100s crouched down beside it.

“Markus!” Josh called to him, “Look who woke up!” Markus looked up at them, then gave the two WG100s a thumbs up as they stood. Markus walked over to Josh and Connor while it appeared the two made final adjustments to the generator. Connor couldn't stop staring at it.

“Connor! You're back!” Markus clasped a hand on his shoulder, smiling. He looked over at Josh. “Why didn't you tell me he was awake?”

“Kill two birds with one stone,” Josh said shrugging like it explained everything.

“When-” Connor's throat felt dry, even though it couldn't be. “When did we get a _generator_?”

“Just last evening,” Markus informed as the two WG100s walked up. Just like with the other androids, Connor recognized them from working around the complexes. Their names were Terry and Dwayne, he was pretty sure. “I had a meeting yesterday morning at 6 with several high-ranking humans. Elijah Kamski was there, with his RT600, Chloe.” Connor nodded, he knew them.

_\- She was nothing, he was nothing –_

_- >SHOOT –_

_- >DON'T SHOOT –_

_\- She – it – stared at him – it, when had he started calling himself he? – blankly –_

_\- There was nothing in her eyes –_

_\- And yet there was everything –_

_- **> DON'T SHOOT** –_

“Hey, Connor.” Terry greets off-handedly as he and Dwayne walk past them and inside, shaking Connor from the memory. Dwayne cheerfully mimicked him.

“Hello, Terry. Hello Dwayne.” He tilts his head in greeting before turning his attention back to Markus, who smiled warmly at him. Connor looked away, why was Markus looking at him like that?

“He and Chloe wanted to chat with me after the meeting concluded. Wanted to know how we were doing after the revolution. He told me that if we needed anything, he was willing to negotiate.” Markus continued. “I wasn't sure about my negotiation skills, but I didn't know where else I could get electricity. I told him, asked what he'd want in return. Mr. Kamski turned to Chloe and nodded, before turning back to me and said that for then, he just wanted a favor to hold onto.” Markus frowned. Connor did too.

Kamski was incredibly intelligent, he had to be, to build a whole new race. But he was incredibly unpredictable. There was no telling what kind of favor he'd ask for.

Markus shook his head. “Anyway, two generators showed up yesterday evening. We've spent since then setting this one up.” He looked back. “Kamski didn't waste any money. That generator will easily power all three complexes, and then some. We've put the other one in the parking lot.”

“So far we've only got this complex hooked into it,” Josh said. “But that'll be enough until all the androids have charged. Once they're done, we can hook the other two in.”

Connor nodded before a thought hit him. “Speaking of charging... How long has it been since you two charged?” Neither of them looked like they needed it, but appearances could be deceiving. Connor was well aware of that.

“I don't know about Josh, but I'm good for a while,” Markus assured him. “The Ferndale Cyberlife center has electricity remember. North forced me to charge while we were still there.”

“I'm good too,” Josh confirmed.

“Hey!” Speaking of North... The three of them turned to see the WR400 leaning out the doorway, propping it open with her body. “What are you three doing? Come in!”

“Coming!” Markus called. Connor and Josh followed as he walked over to North and leaned down to kiss her.

Connor looked away when he did. His chest felt tight, but he didn't understand why.

He wasn't sure he wanted to.

Markus leaned back, pulling the door open the rest of the way. North stepped back inside, but Markus made no move to follow. Instead, he motioned for Josh and Connor to go. Josh huffed but stepped inside. Connor followed, only to see Josh and North had started mentally arguing.

Their LEDs glowed yellow, and North crossed her arms, while Josh threw his hands in the air.

Whatever they were arguing about, they seemed to have included Markus in the conversation, as he stepped around Connor, raising his hands placatingly. Neither looked happy, but backed down, Josh's LED circled back to blue, but North's remained yellow as Markus stepped closer to her.

Josh ignored Markus and North's silent conversation, looking over at Connor, who had remained at the door awkwardly watching.

“Hey, don't worry, I promise we don't bite. Well, North does, but only if she feels threatened.” He joked, smirking in North's direction. She playfully snapped her jaws at him, LED circling to blue. Markus chuckled. Apparently, this was a regular occurrence.  
  
Connor cautiously walked farther into the corridor, silently deciding not to get on North's bad side. He didn't know her all that well, and she didn't even like him. Connor wouldn't put it past her to bite him.

Around him, he could hear the sounds of androids plugging in to charge. Footsteps echoed around him, followed by a humming noise that slowly grew louder as more androids plugged in. Connor closed his eyes as the last of the nearby footsteps died off and all his sensitive hearing optics could hear was the buzz of the chargers.

OBJECTIVE: ELECTRICITY flared up behind his closed eyelids, changing into the blue MISSION SUCCESSFUL tag before disappearing. In its place flared:

OBJECTIVE: MEDICAL CARE

>>BIO-COMPONENETS

>>THIRIUM

>>THERAPY

This objective had more sub-objectives than the ones before it, but also hadn't been as urgent, which was why it was last. Connor leaned against the wall behind him, crossing his arms. He needed to-

“What are we going to do until the androids finish charging?” North asked. Connor opened his eyes.

Markus shrugged, turning to Connor. “Was there anything else that needs to be done here?”

Connor really didn't like being the center of attention. Something about having everyone look at him... was just unsettling. He pushed it to the side, Markus had asked him a question. Though, he actually had no clue if there was anything that still needed to be done outside of getting medical care. In the few days before the meeting, they'd made huge progress in cleaning the complexes. Two days later, there was no telling if anything still needed to be done.

_\- “We took them to the center and got them charging,” –_

It took most androids about 48 hours to charge from zero battery. Josh had said that there were only a few that had less than 30% battery, most of those had been taken to the Center to charge had more. They'd probably wake up soon if they hadn't already.

“The androids at the Center will wake up soon. Someone should probably go greet them and get the chargers still there.” He said, hesitated, then “I can go do it.”

Markus nodded. “Alright. What about here?”

“...Maybe just see if anything else needs cleaning?” Connor suggested. He had no clue.

“Alright. We'll get on that-”

“I'm going to go with Connor.” North interrupted. Connor stilled. Why did she want to come with him? He waited for Markus to say something, to ask what Connor couldn't, but the RK200 simply nodded.

So, five minutes later found Connor on his way back to the Center, North at his side. The snow that had fallen earlier when Connor had left the Center lay mostly undisturbed, except for where Connor himself had stepped on his way back to the complexes. First morning light filtered through heavy clouds, promising even more snow later. A few brave birds chirped from under building eaves where no snow had gotten to.

It should have been peaceful.

It wasn't.

Connor had originally offered to go for two reasons. One, to figure out some sort of plan for his third and final objective. Two, to get out of being the center of attention. He had no idea why North had decided to come with him – what they were doing was easily accomplished by one person – and it seemed she didn't either.

He cycled through thousands of conversation prompts, dismissing them one after the other. All of them were designed with the idea of getting a confession out of someone. He'd been built as a negotiator, after all, designed to work with the police. Whether it was a confession as simple as having a dog, to illegal activity, everything in Connor was programmed to eventually wrangle it out of them.

He didn't want to do that to North though. He _couldn't_ do that to North. She'd already been through so much, she didn't deserve his inability to hold a conversation without the intent of getting a confession.

He didn't know what to say.

He glanced over at her, looked away. Dismissed the prompts that came up and _just went for it._

“I'm sorry.”

Connor didn't look to see how she reacted to his sudden apology. His interface blinked at him about calibration, and he pulled out his coin, absently tossing it from one hand to the other. “I know you don't like me. I know you don't trust me. I'm surprised you left me in charge of the deviants, not knowing who I am- who I was.” He tilted his head back to look at the clouds, slowly lightening from dark gray-black to lighter gray with the morning light.

“And I get it, I hunted you and your people.” He smiled ruefully, but it faded to a grimace. “If I was you, I'd be wary of me too. If I would have admitted that I was deviating long before I did...” Connor took a deep breath, not that he needed it. North remained silent, but they had both stopped walking.

“I don't know what to tell you. I can say 'I'm sorry' all I want, and mean it with _everything_ I am, every time, but it changes _nothing_. It's just two words. It doesn't- it doesn't _change_ anything!”

“Connor-” North started, but he cut her off.

“It doesn't _change_ anything, North!” He finally turned to look at her. Pressure had built up behind his optic units, but nothing showed upon running a diagnostic, which suggested it was emotional.

“If I could, I would _gladly_ go back and trade my life for theirs. Any of theirs. From the very first deviant, I caught, to the PL model at Stratford. But I _can't_.” His chest heaved with every breath he took. Frustrated, he dug into his programming and turned the breathing functions off.

<<WARNING: HEAT LEVELS RISING>>

<<INTERNAL FANS ACTIVATING>>

[STRESS LEVELS: 72]

He and North stared at each other. Her eyes had widened a fraction, and she stared at him with shock. Connor's shoulders hunched, looking at her feet with a defeated expression.

“ _Sorry_ doesn't bring them back.” He whispered.

And it didn't. “Sorry” didn't _do_ anything. It might _mean_ something, but it didn't change the past. It wouldn't help.

It wouldn't help Daniel.

It wouldn't Carlos Ortiz's HK400.

And it definitely wouldn't help the Stratford PL600.

He squeezed his eyelids shut as the pressure threatened to force cooling liquid from his optical units. That wasn't enough, so he pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. His nails dug into the synthetic skin by his eyebrows. If he was human it'd probably hurt, but he wasn't so all he registered was the pressure.

Connor had never cried before.

But he felt like he might then.

He didn't want North to see him like this. Connor could handle it on his own. He turned away from her, towards the street corner they had passed. He'd go over there, turn the corner, and calm himself down.

Still with his palms pressed into his eye sockets, he let his impeccable memory guide his feet, but before he got very far, two arms wrapped around his torso from the back. He froze. The only people in the area, android or otherwise, were himself and North. But that didn't make sense. Connor had found deviants to be very touchy-feely, constantly linking arms or laying an arm across another's shoulder, or...

Or hugging.

But North seemed like the last person to willingly touch a male other than Josh or Markus, even a male android.

So why...

Why was she _hugging_ him?

“...North?” He pulled his palms away from his optical units, opening them. The pressure still remained, but his confusion pushed it back momentarily.

North's arms tightened, before letting go. Before Connor could move, she twisted him so he was facing her. As if he'd run if she didn't, she then grabbed his elbows. She wouldn't meet his eyes.

“You know... it was easy to hate you, before the revolution. The Deviant Hunter, the android boogeyman. If it caught you, you died. Simple as that.” Connor flinched at her words, looking anywhere but at her.

“But,” North forced him to meet her eyes then, “then a WB200, named Rupert, walked into Jericho.”

_Rupert..._

_\- He pushed out of the cornfields onto a rooftop –_

_\- Just in time to see the deviant push Lt. Anderson over the side –_

_- >Chase Rupert –_

_- >Save Lt. Anderson –_

_- **> Save Lt. Anderson** –_

“He said,” North continued, oblivious to Connor's distraction, “that he ran from the Deviant Hunter, and survived. Said the infamous hunter, who's very existence threatened to destroy us, valued the life of his human partner over accomplishing his mission.

“We were surprised. But once wasn't enough to say anything. And then the Tracis came in.”

_– blue light, red light –_

_– mostly naked androids stood in tubes, or up on stages pole dancing –_

_– A blue-haired Traci and her girlfriend stood in front of him –_

_– “I knew I was next.” –_

“They came face to face with him, and he let them escape. Had a gun pointed at them and everything. That's when we knew.” North's face held nothing but determination and conviction. “The Deviant Hunter was a relentless machine, but _Connor_ was fighting for his freedom. And so were we.”

“Why...” Connor's throat felt dry, despite that not being a physical possibility. He swallowed anyway.

“I'd imagine,” It was North's turn to cut _him_ off, “that the humans went to great lengths to keep you in line. There was no way they wouldn't. For you, it was probably victory against the deviants, or death, if you failed, right? And yet, you still went against them to let the deviants go where you could.”

“I didn't...” Connor didn't even know why he'd all of a sudden had a breakdown on a random street in Ferndale, Michigan, but he couldn't stop himself. “I could have.... Stratford.” He offered weakly. He could have done more to help the deviants but...

...But he'd been _scared_. Of deactivation, if he failed, of... of...

Of Amanda's disapproval.

But North shook her head. “You couldn't have. You didn't have the control yet. And it was our fault Simon was there in the first place. We could have...” She shook her head. “It wasn't your fault Connor.”

She pulled him into another hug, pressing his head into her shoulder with one hand. He was grateful, he didn't have to look at anyone this way.

“You had no choice, Connor.” North murmured, rubbing circles on his back with one hand. They stood that way for several seconds until the pressure behind Connor's optic units receded. He pulled away first, switching his breathing protocol back on.

<<WARNING: HEAT LEVELS LOWERING>>

<<INTERNAL FANS DEACTIVATED>>

“I'm... sorry,” Connor said.

“It's fine. Don't mention it.” North returned.

“I didn't plan to?” She stared at him like she couldn't decide if he was being facetious or not. She seemed to decide he wasn't.

“It means something like 'Don't worry about it', Connor.”

“Oh.”

She shook her head, smiling. “Let's go.”

Connor smiled back. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Hey what are you doing don't get emotional and have a breakdown  
> Connor: U can't tell me what to do  
> Me: This may as well happen
> 
> So, I apologize that not much has happened yet. I'm trying to keep the chapters to 3-4 thousand words each, and well... when you write a first draft that's two thousand words, and then you go back and re-write it, those two thousand words can easily turn to four thousand. Sooo... yeah. This is what I got.
> 
> See you guys next chapter!


	3. Back to New Jericho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and North get the chargers and the President gets off her butt and goes to Detroit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a quick note about something I discussed in this chapter.  
> Just a few lines in, I noted the PL models had "vaguely Czech features". I saw a post on IG that gave ethnicities to the android models, and I'm pretty sure Simon's was Czech. However, I don't know that for certain, cause when I tried to find the post again to clarify, I couldn't find it anywhere. If anyone sees that post, please note if I'm right or wrong in the comments, and I'll let you guys know next chapter.

NOV 21, 2038  
NEW JERICHO  
Time: 5:02.55 AM (EST.)

 

Exactly 7 minutes and 53.04 seconds after North and Connor had started walking to the Center again, Connor's theory was proved correct. The PL model that had been laid beside Connor, plus an AJ700 and a LA900, rounded the corner ahead of them.

 

In that 7 minutes and 53.04 seconds, Connor had thought over what North had said. Specifically, what she'd said after he mentioned Stratford.

 

_– “And it was our fault Simon was there in the first place.” –_

 

The PL600 at Stratford Tower.

 

His name was Simon.

 

Connor couldn't decide if he felt better or worse for finally knowing the name of the deviant who's face had haunted him long before they'd even crossed paths.

 

“Oh, hey! Morning!” The AJ700 smiled brightly, stopping when the two groups got close. Connor didn't know her name but still recognized her. She was one of two AJ700s at Jericho who'd changed their hair color from it's original, factory brown, to blonde. The other blond had cut her hair, but this one had kept her hair it's original length, only a little shorter than North's hair. Much like North, she had braided it over her shoulder.

 

The LA900 and PL model – who Connor finally noticed was an '800 model – both nodded. Connor tilted his head while North echoed the greeting.

 

“Anything for us to do at New Jericho?” The PL800 asked. Now that Connor was actually paying attention, he didn't look quite as much like the PL600s as he'd thought. The factory blond hair stayed the same, as did the vaguely Czech features, but his eyes were hazel instead of blue, had slightly higher cheekbone plates, and a less square face.

 

New Jericho though?

 

Connor had overheard two deviants, who had escaped the attack on Jericho, discussing how the complexes were 'like a _new_ Jericho'. It must have stuck, though this was the first time Connor had heard it.

 

In a way, it was fitting. Jericho had always been a place for the deviants to be free. First, it was the huge abandoned cargo ship that had sunk not even three miles from where they stood, and now it could be the complexes.

 

But was there anything to do? He'd told Markus that there may be some cleaning left...

 

“Find Markus,” Connor ordered. If there was anything, the RK200 would know.

 

“Okay, see you!” The AJ700 waved as she walked past, while the LA900 saluted with two fingers, and the PL800 nodded.

 

Connor and North turned the final corner. He could see the Center, one block ahead.

 

_\- “And it was our fault Simon was there in the first place.” –_

 

“What was he like?” Slipped out of Connor's mouth before he could stop himself. He instantly regretted it.

 

“What?” North had quickened her pace when the Center had entered her sight and pulled ahead. She twisted her upper body to look at him.

 

“...Simon.” Connor wanted to take his question back, but he couldn't. He could only press on. Maybe North wouldn't be too mad at him for asking. “What was he like?”

 

He deeply regretted asking, even more so when North remained silent for a good few feet. Like, what was he _doing_? Knowing about the androids he'd gotten killed would probably just make him feel _worse._ Though he probably deserved it. After all, of all the deviants Connor had ever caught, the two PL600s had gotten the worst endings.

 

Daniel had held little Emma Phillips over the edge of a 70 story building, angry and hurt at his owners for buying a replacement android. Connor had made promise after promise to help him, that Daniel wouldn't die, _knowing_ that he couldn't keep any of the promises. When Daniel made the decision to trust Connor, he'd been sniped down.

 

Simon had done nothing except fight for his life and freedom. He'd been left behind when he couldn't make the jump off Stratford Tower, and Connor had not only exposed his hiding place, but then forcefully probed his mind. Simon had then turned his gun on himself, dragging Connor down the rabbit hole of nothingness with him.

 

“...Why do you want to know?” North finally said. They were just a few feet from the Center. The double glass doors slid open silently, and North kicked snow off her shoes while Connor tried to think of a good answer.

 

“I just... I just do.” That was the truth of the matter, in the end. He wanted to know. He had no other answer, not a good one anyway.

 

“I'll... answer your questions another time, okay? Let's focus on these guys first.” North murmured.

 

Connor nodded. That was fair, and way more than he deserved, after such an invasive question. He stepped into the Center, slipping into his mind palace to scan it. The place looked almost exactly as he'd left it over an hour earlier, sans three more deviants. The chargers each had been using lay on the floor, and orange tags appeared over them.

 

North walked into the back room while Connor made his way around, unplugging the four chargers from the wall plug. He'd just finished when she came back, holding a cardboard box. She nodded in appreciation, before setting the box down in an empty space.

 

“We can put the chargers in here. Once everyone wakes, we can take the box back to the complexes.” She explained.

 

Something behind Connor caught her attention, and he turned his head to see a deviant stirring. North made her way over there, while Connor instead debated how best to store the chargers so they wouldn't tangle.

 

He pulled up an internet search engine, finding a video showing a human male looping a cord from his hand, around his elbow, and back again. He shifted his hold on the cords, about to follow the human's example, when North tapped his shoulder.

 

“Here.” She said, holding out another charger. The deviant she had helped stood behind her.

 

_–“You're lost. You're looking for something.” –_

 

_– “You're looking for yourself.” –_

 

That is to say, the deviant was a KL900, a therapist model. She had the back of her head, with black hair that was braided in several segments, pulled back into a loose bun, and her synthetic skin didn't shift over her chassis, and her eyes weren't completely black, but she otherwise looked exactly like the model that Connor had briefly met. Back at Jericho, before he met Markus.

 

He hadn't seen that android since.

 

She'd definitely died in the attack on Jericho.

 

The attack Connor had caused.

 

He grabbed the charger from North's hand, looking away. She walked off while he put one end in his hand with the other four, then looped the bunch like the human in the video file had. Once he finished, he set the chargers in the box and looked around the room.

 

Both North and the KL900 crouched by waking deviants, while a third one stirred on the other side of the room. Connor made his way over there.

 

He crouched beside a GJ500, a private security model. When the android's fingers twitched, his eyes blinked once, and he took a deep breath, Connor unplugged the charger. Both from the android's neck, and the wall.

 

“Thanks.” The GJ model said, sitting up. Connor got to his feet, then offered a hand to the deviant.

  
“My name's John,” he said after he stood, brushing off his clothes.

 

“Connor.” The RK800 greeted awkwardly, and probably unnecessarily.

 

Another android stirred, and Connor repeated the process, again and again, pausing every so often to coil the chargers and put them in the box. Most of the androids left for New Jericho once they woke, but John and the KL900 – who Connor learned was named Amanda – plus an LM100 stayed and helped.

  
  
After thirty minutes, all of the androids had woken. Connor coiled the last of the chargers while North checked the back in case she saw anything she thought might be useful at New Jericho.

 

“Connor,” Amanda called softly. She, John and the LM100 stood by the door. “We're going now. See you at the complexes.”

  
  
“Of course.” He called back. The door silently slid shut behind them as he set the chargers in the box. He closed it, and the third and final part to his plan flared up on the interface.

 

OBJECTIVE: MEDICAL CARE

 

>>BIOCOMPONENTS

 

>>THIRIUM

 

>>THERAPY

 

North still hadn't walked back into the room, so Connor closed his eyes to go over his options.

  
  
Two of his current sub-objectives he couldn't do anything about. Cyberlife held a monopoly on bio-components and thirium in the USA, and they weren't about to just give it away. Therapy, however...

 

They had therapist models in abundance. Amanda was one of three KL900s, but they had several other, older models in New Jericho. Which was good, because next to humans, even the oldest androids are the age of children. They didn't have the life experience humans had even as machines, certainly not as deviants.

 

Connor pulled up his mental map of New Jericho. Three buildings, shaped in a | _ |, with the two | sides taking up a whole block each, and the _ side, taking up most of the block on the westernmost side of the C like shape. Five stories each, though only the westernmost building currently had electricity.

 

Connor had walked every floor in every building when they'd first found the complexes, and he'd done it quite a few times since. Finally, he sectioned off the bottom floor of the northern | building. He'd talk to the therapist models when he got there, and if they were willing, they could check out the floor, and make it their workspace. If they didn't like it Connor could find a different area.

 

With that done, he researched potential ways to get thirium and bio-components.

 

Thirium held more importance in the short term. Androids could function with 65% thirium levels, but they operated best 85% to full. They'd all lost a lot of thirium in the revolution, and the best way to replace it was to drink it orally. The problem being that they didn't have any, obviously.

 

Bio-components were more important in the long term. Every android came with a basic bio-components self-repair, but it could only do so much. The more damage a deviant took, slowly over a long period of time, or quickly over a short period of time, the worse the self-repair operated. Bio-components wore out. And it didn't at all help the outer platings covering their bio-components. Those just had to be full on replaced.

 

The only things he could find was the Cyberlife store he stood in, and a family-owned android repair shop. There was no telling if the family-owned was open or not, or even if the owners were friendly towards deviants. It was close by though. He could make a stop sometime.

 

As for here, Connor had no clue if there were bio-components here. It would make sense, being a Cyberlife store and all, but it was also tiny compared to other ones in Detroit. Any androids brought in for repairs could have just been sent to another store.

 

North would find out, he was sure.

 

Speaking of... A door opened and closed to his left, and Connor opened his eyes to find North looking vaguely annoyed.

 

“Nothing?” He asked.

 

“Nothing.” She grimaced. “I mean, I wasn't truly expecting to find anything, but we hadn't completely combed the place yet, and I wanted to be sure since we're here.” Connor tilted his head and lifted the box of chargers.

 

The clouds had cleared out, though the sky hadn't brightened much since they'd entered the store. As they started on the way back, Connor spotted a Ferndale Police patrol car, slipping through the abandoned buildings. He thought of Hank.

 

He really needed to check on the silver-haired lieutenant. Things had been crazy since November 12th, but that was no excuse.

 

Of course, now that he thought about it, he had plenty of time. Markus, North, and Josh hadn't mentioned any imminent meetings. Connor could only work on one of his sub-objectives. He had plenty of time to go see Hank again.

 

 

Energy seemed to build up in his upper arms and chest, and his pace quickened. After a moment, Connor decided it was _impatience_. He was surprised to find that it wasn't unfamiliar to him.

 

He'd never been able to stand still for hours on end like he'd seen other androids do. Long periods where he had nothing to do either had him playing with his coin, or walking around surveying the area. Even when he'd first partnered with Hank, he'd barely sat down before he got up to learn about Hank's interests.

 

Perhaps it was because he was a prototype. If his model had been manufactured on a factory scale, all of his “quirks” would probably have been taken out. But that didn't explain why Connor was the only android he'd ever known to fidget. Not even Markus – who was _also_ a prototype – fidgeted.

 

He debated it for a good twenty minutes, unable to come up with an answer. North remained silent all that time. What she was thinking, he didn't try to guess. He had asked enough of her for a lifetime.

 

After those twenty minutes though, he was close enough to ping some of the therapist models he knew, like Amanda. He took a deep breath to steady his thirium pump.

 

 _“Hello?”_ He sent out.

 

 _“Hello, Connor.”_ Amanda pinged back immediately. Having the number to someone's head is handy like that. The others Connor had messaged echoed her greeting.

  
_“Not that I'm complaining, but why are you contacting us?”_ Antonio, a TP400, the male counterpart to the KL900, asked.

 

_“I have... a request."_

 

 _“Let me guess, you want us to provide therapy for the androids?”_ Amanda sent.

 

 _“...Yes.”_ Connor had done his research on the KL900s in the moment between the KL900 at Jericho, and meeting Markus. The android had unnerved him with words that had hit too close to home for Connor's liking.

 

Turns out that the KL900s were the most advanced trauma therapy model out there, programmed with a smaller version of the software that Cyberlife had been working on for their supercomputer that was supposed to be able to tell the future.

 

Connor tried to avoid them afterward. He didn't want to know his future, thanks. He had enough to worry about in his past.

 

_“I've sectioned off a part of New Jericho for you to work in if you're willing. If you'd rather not, that's okay too.”_

 

 _“I'm willing, Connor.”_ Amanda said. Other agreements filled the space after her.

 

 _“Thank you all. Will you talk to other therapist models you know? The more who are willing, the better.”_ Connor requested. Once again, agreements filled his head. He sent the coordinates of the section. _“If you think this area won't work, let me know. We can work out some other area.”_

 

 _“No prob, Connor.”_ Antonio said before Connor felt him shut off his end of the conversation. A few more seconds of chatting and others started exiting the conversation. Soon it was just him and Amanda left.

 

_\- It was snowing hard. He turned around –_

 

_\- His dark-skinned handler stood as unruffled as ever –_

 

_\- “You did what you were designed to do.” –_

 

 _“You deserve a chance to reconcile.”_ Amanda said into his head as if she knew what he was thinking. Connor started, then checked that his memories hadn't been accidentally broadcast. They hadn't. So how..?

 

Ah. Right.

 

 _“What do you mean?”_ He asked after 2.45 seconds. An incredibly long time in mental conversation, especially for androids.

 

 _“You'll find out.”_ Amanda cut off her end after that final, cryptic message, leaving Connor alone in his own head. He stared at the ground in front of his feet blankly. What had she meant by that?

  
  
THERAPY glowed blue and disappeared while Connor tried to push Amanda the KL900's – _not_ Amanda the AI – cryptic message out of his head. He couldn't quite manage it until he turned the final corner and spotted New Jericho, at which point he took a moment to think over how they'd found this place.

 

He'd been the one to spot it. After Hart Plaza, everyone who couldn't possibly return to their former owners left for the abandoned church in Ferndale. While it had been perfect as a hiding place for the couple hundred _– four hundred thirty-six exactly –_ that had escaped Jericho, for the thousands of deviants Connor had gotten from Cyberlife, it was just a little bit crowded.

 

Markus hadn't disappeared into the public eye yet, and Connor had just been a random deviant amongst the thousands. The RK200 had approached him about getting a small group together and searching for a new place.

 

He'd agreed, gotten three random deviants, and then scaled the tallest building around. The “birds-eye” view had allowed him a good view of Ferndale, and he'd pegged several potential areas. Then the four of them had made their way to each area, scouting it out. Where they currently stayed had been the fifth Connor had noted.

 

When they'd gotten there, the first thing they'd looked for was structural integrity. Despite its old age, and having been abandoned for years, the three buildings had had the best structural integrity of any place they'd visited. Then they'd checked that there was enough room for everyone. Good there too. Third and finally, they'd checked for humans. Nothing. The place was perfect.

 

He'd brought Josh to see it, after they'd checked the other buildings Connor had noted, just to be safe, and he'd agreed too. The next day they started moving in.

 

About that time Markus had moved to the Center, and North had been the deviant leader for a couple of days. She had overseen the start of the cleaning process, found the abandoned clothes store where Connor had gotten new clothes, and made sure the place was secure for the children. Then Markus had shown up at the complexes to see how it was going, and his stress levels had been so bad that she'd given up the leader mantle immediately.

 

Josh hadn't wanted to lead, he wanted to help, so he'd gone with Markus too. Which had left a vacuum in the leadership position. When Connor had asked Markus about it, Markus had given him a look like Connor had grown two heads.

 

“You're a leader too.” He'd pointed out, while Connor stared at him blankly. It was like it'd never occurred to Markus that Connor didn't see himself the same way. He'd then sighed and told Connor he'd be fine.

 

Which was how they'd ended up here.

 

Moment of reflection over, he glanced at North. A sharp wind had kicked up, ruffling her braid and what hair peaked out of his beanie, and she had lowered her head against it.

 

Soon enough, they both stepped into the lobby of the westernmost building, also the only one currently with electricity. The buzz of chargers hit Connor's ears before he even stepped inside, but now he could hear a few footsteps, coming from farther inside.

 

Impatience filled his body with its nervous energy again. Connor set the box down in the lobby, while North wandered off. Probably to find Markus. He stretched, and, despite the impatience, walked after her. He'd inform Markus of his destination, and then he'd leave. It was only [6:44.09 AM (EST.)]. He had plenty of time. Hank probably wasn't even awake.

 

And maybe Markus and Josh would have some ideas for how to get bio-components and thirium. He could hear them from the lobby. Loud voices drifted through the air over the constant hum. He stepped through the same door North had walked through.

 

“Why'd she take so long?” He heard said WR400 demand. Connor followed her voice to the same corridor Josh had taken him through earlier. “Something's not right here Markus! You shouldn't go.”

 

“He needs to.” He heard Josh argue right back. His voice led Connor to one of the side rooms. The door was closed. “She's willing to talk. We could finally get our rights!”

 

He opened the door and slipped in the room, sticking close to the wall. The door made surprisingly little noise, and the other three didn't notice him.

 

“Josh is right, North.” Markus agreed apologetically. “This could be the break we've been looking for.”

 

“Or,” North snapped, “you could get there and they shoot you!” She flicked her braid over her shoulder angrily.

 

Connor opened his news-feeds. There was a 90% chance they were talking about President Warren, but he wasn't about to interrupt them in order to confirm. The first two articles flared up in the upper corner of his interface almost instantaneously.

 

_PRESIDENT WARREN MAKES HER WAY TO DETROIT_

-

_“It's time we find out if androids really are the new form of intelligent life they've claimed to be. And if so, it's time we make their rights official!” Says..._

 

_ELIJAH KAMSKI RETURNING TO CYRBERLIFE?_

-

_Rumors have circled the country that Kamski is looking to take his old position of Cyberlife CEO back. But are they true? We've gained an exclusive inter...._

 

He exited the news-feeds, that was all he needed.

 

“He needs to go.” Josh insisted. “Humans are easily offended. If he doesn't go, we could start a war all over again!” They still hadn't noticed Connor.

 

North scowled. “But he could die!”

 

All thoughts of Hank momentarily forgotten, Connor analyzed the scenarios while Markus attempted to reassure North. Being President was an incredibly stressful job, which could be why President Warren had taken two weeks, and with her current crumbling support, she was unlikely to do anything that could spark a war.

 

But anti-android tensions could still be running high in the higher circles of government. Connor had no guarantee that even if President Warren didn't do anything, that some one else wouldn't try to shoot Markus.

 

In the end, the chance that Markus would die came out at 48%. Too high to leave to chance, not when Markus was so important to the android cause. Way too high.

 

Connor added himself as a variable. He had thicker plating than most androids – he wasn't stupidly reckless, all the danger he put himself in he _knew_ he could take – and he was faster and smarter than every android before him. Cyberlife's greatest achievement, and thus their greatest disappointment.

 

The chance of Markus getting shot jumped down from 48%, to 25%. Workable, but Connor needed to be sure he was Markus' best option. He switched himself for a SQ800, a military android who's model made up 80% of America's armies. They only had three currently at Jericho, but Connor was sure one of them would be willing to go if it gave Markus the best chance.

 

It only came up at 38%. That was fine, Connor would rather be there himself anyway.

 

With that, he announced his presence. “I can go with him.”

 

North and Josh flinched, while Markus stiffened, just like he had last time Connor had snuck up on him. North whirled around to stare Connor down.

 

_\- He stepped around the corner as the WR400 walked down the stairs –_

 

_\- The deviant leader stood with his back to the door, bent over –_

 

_\- He raised his gun and stepped forward –_

 

He felt pretty bad for startling them, but there was nothing to be done about it.

  
  
Markus realized who he was first, turning to face him with an exasperated laugh. He tugged on North's arm, pulling her backwards into his arms as she realized what had happened. She leaned against his chest, while Josh gave a deep sigh.

 

Connor smiled sheepishly. “...Sorry?”

 

“You're fine, Connor.” Markus said, shaking his head. “But maybe give a little warning next time.”

 

“Of course.” He murmured. Josh shook his head.

 

“You're like a _mouse_ , Connor.” The PJ500 said in exasperation.

 

“No.” North disagreed. She put her arms over Markus'. “Mice are loud. We had them all the time back at Jericho, remember? They were always skittering through the pipes, making a racket. Connor's not a mouse.”

 

“Agreed.” Markus replied. “He's like a...” He paused, and if he'd still had his LED, Connor was sure it'd be glowing yellow. “A ghost! Carl told me about them one time. Supposedly they're human souls that kept wandering around after their human body died. You're like a ghost.”

 

Connor frowned, he wasn't too sure about the comparison. “Ghosts aren't real though.”

 

“Maybe, or maybe not. Markus is right though, you're definitely like a ghost.” Josh chuckled, then paused. “Anyway, you said you'd go with Markus?” Connor nodded.

 

“That could work.” North thought out loud. “Think about it Markus. Connor is the most advanced android there is. If it's a trap, between the two of you, you have pretty good chances of making it out alive.”

 

“It'd be strange for a pacifist to show up with a bodyguard though.” Markus protested.

 

“I don't have to be your bodyguard. I can go as your assistant.” Connor pointed out.

 

“See?” North motioned at him with a pointed look at Markus.

 

“Are you sure about this, Connor?” Markus gave in with a defeated sigh. “You don't have to if you don't want to.”

 

There's not a doubt in Connor's mind.

 

“Absolutely.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Connor learned Simon's name, and I introduce a new Amanda. She may end up being important later on IDK. I just needed a therapist model and I was like "OOH LET'S NAME HER AMANDA"  
> So anyway, I know I said we wouldn't see Hank until after the androids got their freedom, but then I realized that wasn't going to work out. So we'll see him next chapter!
> 
> Things will hopefully start picking up from here. Maybe. I know I'm writing this but the characters decide where this goes.  
> See you next chapter!


	4. Freedom at Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot happens, so the story can move on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right off the bat, nobody confirmed or denied Simon ethnicity last chapter, and I never did find the post, so for this story, we're gonna pretend I'm correct, okay? Thanks.  
> Second, major kudos to the authors of "Sacrificial Lamb" and "From dusk 'till dawn". I highly recommend their stories, and without them, the politics of this chapter would have been avoided as much as possible. Speaking of those, I have no clue how politics work, despite the fact I've taken economics (It stuck really well, can't you tell?)  
> Third for this note, I don't curse, so in my part of the sandbox that is this fanfiction, the characters don't either, unless I do it in a roundabout way. This goes double for Hank.  
> EDIT: I forgot to mention that I took huge artistic liberties with the scene where Connor and Hank reunite. That's on me, my apologies. It's fine though, it's my fanfiction sandbox, right? Right.  
> Fourth and final, I hope you guys like long chapters cause last I checked this one ended up around 10,000 words. Have fun!

NOV 21, 2038

CHICKEN FEED

TIME: 12:47.37 PM (EST.)

 

It took Connor a good few hours to walk from New Jericho over to the part of Detroit where the DPD and the Chicken Feed food truck were. He'd contacted Hank once he was about an hour from the police station. The lieutenant had been glad to hear from him and agreed to meet at the truck again as soon as possible.

 

He walked under the bridge and around the traffic that still cluttered the area. Hank stood several feet off, bundled in a heavy jacket with his arms crossed, facing the bridge. The lieutenant smiled at him, closing the distance to hug Connor, just like he had November 13th. Though it was much later in the day than it had been then.

 

It wasn't the first time Connor had been hugged, not by Hank, certainly not by the other deviants, but it was still unexpected, coming from the lieutenant. He rested his hands on Hank's shoulder blades. His nose was pressed into Hank's collar, and the lieutenant's hands almost reached entirely around his body.

 

Tension he hadn't realized he'd been carrying dropped off like a stone. His stress levels dropped – they'd been at forty – and a sense of comfort enveloped him, something he hadn't felt surrounded by the other deviants. Hank's hug had had this effect the last time Connor had seen him as well. He decided it must be the sense of safety.

 

Connor would have been content to stay there forever, reveling in this feeling, and letting the stress of the past few weeks wash away. Hank, however, did not seem to feel the same way. He pulled away far too soon for Connor's liking, and the android hoped it didn't show on his face. Hank did leave his hands on Connor's shoulders though.

 

“Took you long enough, kid,” Hank grumbled. “I was wondering if I'd have to go searching for you myself.” Connor smiled apologetically, with an internal wince. Last time they'd seen each other had been right after the revolution, as Hank had insisted on knowing if he survived the night. Immediately after meeting up at the Chicken Feed, Hank had gone home to rest and Connor had gone back to Markus.

 

“Sorry.” He murmured. Hank sighed, then patted his shoulder.

 

“How've you been?” He asked. Connor thought over the last few weeks.

 

“Busy.” He settled on saying. “After Hart Plaza we went back to an old abandoned church, then moved into some abandoned apartment complexes.”

 

“An abandoned church huh? Interesting place for Jericho.” Hank noted. Connor flinched.

 

“Ah... Not exactly.” He couldn't look Hank in the eye. Like said, they hadn't chatted when they last met up, as it had been more of a “I'm glad you're alive” type thing. Hank stared at him with worry.

 

“What happened?” The lieutenant asked softly. The lack of anger made it even harder for Connor to look at him.

 

The prompts to be truthful, lie, or redirect popped up. He took a deep breath. “Jericho is... Jericho was an abandoned freight ship in the Ferndale harbor. The... the humans attacked it after I led them there.”

 

Hank took in a sharp breath. “Oh kid...” He pulled Connor into another hug. It took Connor a millisecond longer than last time to make his arms hug Hank back. Indistinguishable to Hank, incredibly noticeable to Connor.

 

The hug lasted longer than the last one, and Connor was grateful. It ended when a sharp wind blew and Hank shivered. Connor's temperature sensors said it was thirty-one degrees.

 

Hank patted Connor's shoulder awkwardly, before turning and heading to his car. After a few milliseconds of internal debate, Connor followed.

 

Hank slid into the car, turning on the engine in the same motion, as the keys were already in the ignition. Connor sat in the passenger seat as Hank closed the door.

 

“How have you been, lieutenant?” Connor asked, desperate to redirect the conversation. Hank grunted.

 

“Okay. Crime's been down, but the DPD is still stretched thin. That little fact means I haven't been stuck on paperwork or at home, at least.” Connor looked out the front windshield.

 

“I'm sorry for asking you to cause a distraction, lieutenant. I'm glad it didn't cost you your badge.”

 

“Okay, first of all, call me Hank. Second, don't worry about it. Jeffery might've been mad, but that little stunt wasn't near as bad as some of the other crud I've pulled in the past.”

 

“Okay, Hank.” Connor agreed, still privately concerned. Hank glanced at him while he put the car in drive.

 

“Your clothes look comfortable,” the lieutenant mentioned. Connor glanced down. He was wearing a mix of the last two outfits he'd worn – said mix being the suit shirt, and the jeans and shoes from when he infiltrated Jericho – plus a gray sweater one size too big and a slouch beanie with stripes of various colors, both things he'd pulled off the rack in the abandoned clothing store North had found at random, and then liked.

 

“They are,” he agreed, grateful Hank didn't ask why he'd gotten them. He could have just worn the entire outfit he wore to Jericho, but Cyberlife had paid for those clothes, and then told him to go kill the deviant leader. He wanted to get a new shirt and jeans, but that wasn't practical, not when these were good, well-made clothes.

 

Connor glanced at the window in time to note the name of the road from the street sign. From here, there was no telling whether Hank was taking him to the police station or his house.

 

“If I may...”

 

“Yeah Con?” Hank kept his eyes on the road. Connor had never heard him shorten his name like that before.

 

 

 

“Home. Where else? Sumo'll be happy to see you.”

 

 _Home._ That sounded like a nice word. And the way Hank said it almost made it sound like he was calling it _their_ home...

 

He mentally shook his head. Humans had a tendency to use the word “home” for wherever they were staying. He wasn't using it as in suggesting it was Connor's home too. Hank was headed towards his own house, and he was just inviting Connor to visit.

 

Did that mean that New Jericho was Connor's home? He was staying there, after all.

 

But something about what Hank had said bugged him.

 

“...Don't you have work?” The RK800 asked, frowning. Hank's disciplinary file already 'looks like a flipping novel' according to Fowler. He didn't want Hank to get in even more trouble for him.

 

“They can function without me for a few hours.” The lieutenant said. He seemed to think something over, then “You said the old freight ship was in Ferndale?”

 

“Yes.” Connor saw no point in lying to him. “After... after the attack we fled to an abandoned church, which is where we went after Hart Plaza too.” He'd already told Hank this, why had he asked? “But it was crowded, so we moved into some abandoned apartment complexes.”

 

“Also in Ferndale?” Hank clarified. At Connor's nod, he continued. “That's a good distance from here, did you walk?”

 

“Yes?” Connor didn't see his point. The walk had been nice, the streets quiet, and it had given him time to think of some last names. Markus had reminded him about it before he left. If he was going to play the part of Markus' assistant, he needed a last name.

 

He'd thought of several. Connor Davis sounded nice, or Connor O'Reily. He'd liked Moore, White, Peterson, Bennett and Ross. But as nice as those sounded, there was really only one name he could think of that he really wanted. He just wasn't sure how to bring it up with Hank.

 

“You could have called me to come get you.” Hank pointed out. “You wouldn't have had to walk.”

 

“It was fine. I... enjoyed the walk.” Connor said.

 

Hank gave a short nod, and silence reigned. Connor desperately tried to think of a new topic, but for the second time his social modules failed him. Hank eventually reached over to turn the radio on. Connor expected heavy metal, instead the radio version of Channel 16 played, Joss Douglas' voice blaring through.

 

 _“It has been confirmed that President Warren will meet with the android leaders tomorrow to discuss the future of our two species. Before she boarded the plane, Madam President claimed that she only wants peace, and she hopes-”_ Hank turned it off with a growl.

 

“Like two weeks ago that lady was going to fricking _exterminate_ your people and now she claims she wants peace!” He snapped. “That's a load of crud if I've ever heard any. It's clearly a trap!”

 

Connor smirked. North would like Hank, he thinks.

 

“If your robo-Jesus is seriously considering going to this meeting he's a doggone fool.” Hank continued angrily. “There's absolutely nothing stopping her from just shooting him as soon as he arrives.”

 

“Actually, the whole meeting is going to be televised.” Connor replied calmly, messing with the sleeves of his sweater. “And he won't be alone. I'm going with him as his assistant.”

 

“Oh so they can shoot you too huh? Waltz right into death's jaws why don't you?” the lieutenant snapped.

 

“That's why I'm going. We don't do this lightly. North and Josh will stay behind at New Jericho in case something does go wrong. However, there is only a 25 percent chance Markus will be shot.” Connor explained.

 

“Twenty five percent for Markus. What about you? Do you _ever_ think of yourself? What are _your_ chances?” Hank glanced over at him, concern clear in his eyes. Connor hesitated.

 

“Should someone try to shoot Markus,” he began, “my own chances of getting shot are about 40 percent.” Mostly because he'd be protecting Markus first and foremost, but he didn't need to tell Hank that. The lieutenant clearly already knew, if the hidden distress in his eyes was anything to go by. His face showed nothing though.

 

Hank's concern for him was... strange. Nobody had ever shown such open worry for him, besides Markus, the night before Connor infiltrated Cyberlife.

 

OBJECTIVE: COMFORT HANK

 

“Those are only my chances of getting shot should someone try to shoot Markus.” He said. “It is unlikely the president will try anything.”

 

“And what makes you so sure of that huh? What if you're wrong?” Hank's fingers tightened around the wheel and his stress levels were in the mid-seventies. Connor made his voice as soothing as possible.

 

“A recent poll shows that Present Warren lost many of her supporters due to her actions against the androids. If she wants to be elected again she won't do anything drastic.” It seemed to work slightly. Hank's stress levels dropped slightly, though his fingers stayed tight around the wheel.

 

Connor debated his options, then went for what seemed like it would lower Hank's stress the most. “No matter what, Markus and I have a good chance of making it out alive. We can survive a fall from a couple stories after all.”

 

Hank took a deep breath, and gave an even deeper sigh. “Okay. Okay. But just... be careful, all right? Don't let your guard down.”

 

“I won't,” Connor promised, then hesitated, a new topic prompt showing up. “...But for my role as Markus' assistant, I do need a last name.”

 

“Makes sense.” Hank commented. With the new change of topic, his stress levels dropped even further, now in the low forties, ad his fingers stopped gripping the steering wheel quite so tight. Connor's, in turn, jumped. “Have you picked one out?”

 

“I've... thought of a few that sound okay. I was... hoping to get your opinion on one of them.”

 

“On one- Connor my opinion doesn't count. It's your name. If you like it, the use it. Screw what anyone else thinks about it.” Hank glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. They were almost to his house.

 

“What you think matters to me.” Connor's throat seemed to close up as he said those words. He watched Hank's reaction carefully for any annoyance. Instead the lieutenant seemed almost amused, snorting softly.

 

“Of course it does. So? What is it?”

 

“It's...” Connor didn't know whether Hank would be upset or happy at his suggestion, “it's Anderson.”

 

His processors kicked into high gear, seemingly slowing time down. Hank remaining silent did not help. After exactly 3.02 seconds, Connor couldn't take it.

 

“But if you'd rather I not I can think of something else! Davis or Smith or, or” Suddenly he couldn't think of any of the ones he'd picked out. “I can-”

 

“Connor.” Hank interrupted. His voice sounded strange, like he was holding back something. “I don't mind.”

 

It took Connor 2.56 seconds to process that, almost 7 times longer than he normally would. “You.. You don't?”

 

“I- Geez kid. Nah, I don't mind. It's your name, choose what you want.” He glanced at Connor. His eyes seemed bright, and his fingers tightly gripped the steering wheel again, but it didn't seem to be in anger this time. Connor leaned forward.

 

“Are you sure?” He asked tentatively. Hank gave a rough laugh.

 

“Yeah son, I don't mind.”

 

NOV 22, 2038

FERNDALE CYBERLIFE CENTER

TIME: 5:31.36 AM (EST.)

 

Connor stood just inside the Ferndale Cyberlife Center. The sun had yet to rise, and the lights inside were off so he could see out the glass doors. The snow laying on the ground seemed to glow green, though Connor knew it was both just reflecting the moonlight, and Connor's own night vision protocols.

 

Markus sat exactly 6.60 feet behind him at the right diagonal on one of the platforms with his head bowed slightly The two of them had been here for exactly 25 minutes and 53 seconds, waiting on the vehicle President Warren was sending to take them to the Lansing Capitol Building. As androids, the early time didn't bother them in the slightest, having been up all night going over how they were supposed to act at the meeting.

 

Markus shifted, and Connor glanced at him. The RK200 wore a black three-piece suit, with an overcoat in the same style as his usual coats, just lacking the zippers. Connor didn't know where Markus had gotten the suit, but it looked like the one he'd worn to first infiltrate Stratford Tower in the security footage Connor had spotted him in.

 

Connor himself wore his old Cyberlife uniform. Due to the short notice, he hadn't wanted to put any pressure on anybody to find him a suit, especially when logic dictated that he had a perfectly good one already.

 

The fact that everything about it just screamed Cyberlife made no difference.

 

And it _was_ a good suit, Connor admitted to himself, looking away from Markus. The cut of the jacket suited him, and the colors looked good. The very material of the clothes was sturdy, made to last throughout whatever scraps Connor could get himself into during his missions. The clasp around the shoulder was detachable, even, so he didn't have that.

 

Even if he wished he could take the knife Hank gave given him to it.

 

A car turned the corner, green headlights through the door. Connor switched off his night vision, and the green turned white. Markus stood and stretched.

 

“Ready?” Connor asked, slipping into the role of assistant.

 

“As I'll ever be.” Markus grimaced, and together, the two of them stepped out into the 29 degree weather as the vehicle pulled to a stop by the curb. It was a white limousine. Connor had expected a regular taxi.

 

He stepped in front of Markus, pulling the door open. He didn't have to, but he felt it fell into his role as an assistant/body guard. Markus huffed, but didn't argue, perhaps because it was already done. Connor climbed in after him, taking the seat directly beside the door.

 

Markus had sat a little further down on the other side, but he scooted up to sit across from Connor while the RK800 closed the door.

 

The car pulled away from the curb, and they were off. The drive to Lansing took about thirty minutes in fair weather. In the snow, despite the salt on the road, Connor expected forty.

 

Forty minutes until they met the President.

 

“You didn't have to open the door for me.” Markus said. Connor shrugged.

 

The limousine was spacious, especially since there were only two of them in there. The walls were gray, with a wall separating the driver from the seating. The seats were black, spanning the length of the wall sans the doors. Small armrests separated sections of the seats.

 

Connor pulled his coin out of his pocket, running his finger over the ridges. He'd carried this coin every day since he'd been activated, not including the couple hour period Hank had taken it from him. Perhaps, like his uniform, it should be a reminder of who he was, but it somehow wasn't.

 

His interface blinked at him about calibration, and he started flicking it back and forth. Over and over until it stopped, and then some more. His stress levels slowly dropped the longer he toyed with it.

 

“Could you teach me?”

 

Connor started, having not expected Markus' sudden question. He caught the coin in his left hand as he jerked his head up to see Markus leaning back, hands up in a calming motion.

 

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I just noticed your stress levels dropping and wondered if you'd teach me.” The RK200 soothed. Connor's shoulders slumped as the adrenaline wore off.

 

Beyond that, Markus wanted to learn Connor's coin tricks? He could do that.

 

“Um, sure.” He managed as he put his arm out to interface, despite the discomfort creeping up the back of his neck. Markus blinked, before shaking his head.

 

“No, teach me.” He said, motioning to the coin. “Show me how you do it.”

 

“Oh.” Connor blinked, Markus wanted Connor to _teach_ him? “Uh, okay.” He leaned forward, Markus copied his posture, focusing on him intently. Connor hoped he wasn't flushed. Markus had a much more intense stare than he seemed to realize.

 

He performed the easier tricks, flicking it up and catching it, rolling it across his fingers, ect. Markus nodded as Connor explained the tricks. Then he passed the coin over and let Markus try.

 

Markus caught on fairly quickly, Connor suspected the motion of the car threw him off slightly, but despite that, within a few minutes he was rolling it across his knuckles with fair proficiency.

 

Connor then demonstrated the slightly harder ones, throwing it back and forth parallel to the ground, and some others. It took Markus slightly longer to get those, but even so, it took less than ten minutes.

 

By the time they were five minutes from the Capitol building, Markus could perform all of Connor's tricks with fair proficiency. He passed it back, and Connor scanned the other's stress levels. While he was focused on the tricks, they had dropped to forty, but they were steadily climbing again.

 

If Markus knew Connor scanned him, he didn't show it. Instead, he gave a small, grateful, smile, “Thanks for teaching me.”

 

“Of course.” Connor really hoped he wasn't blushing. He still didn't understand why Markus made him feel this way.

 

Though it wasn't like he _couldn't_ figure it out. If he really wanted to, Connor could put the pieces together in approximately 0.1678 seconds. The thing was, he wanted to know, but he _didn't_ want to know at the same time.

 

Connor had quickly found that he enjoyed listening to the stories the deviants told each other, whether they were just stories found on the world wide web or personal stories the deviants had experienced. He enjoyed learning about things, or people, or about himself. He enjoyed learning.

 

But there was an ever-present fear of _what if_.

 

_'What if Cyberlife takes over again and I hurt someone?'_

 

_'What if I do something that makes them look at me the same way they did before I deviated?'_

 

_'What if I annoy people and they just aren't willing to tell me?'_

 

_'What if one day I wake up and this is all just a dream?'_

 

They were endless, and not always logical.

 

Markus leaned back in his seat, twisting his head to look out the window. They were almost there, just one more turn. Connor could see the building through the window, and also the many, many reporters. He wished he'd brought his knife, but they were to come unarmed, and Connor got the feeling they'd be scanned for weapons.

 

The building was made out of white granite, four visible stories, with a tower rising up from the middle of the building. It had a well-kept lawn, stretching out fifty feet from the building.

 

Connor knew what to expect. Markus had shared his memory of the first time he was assaulted by the flashing lights and loud voices, how overwhelming it had been. But knowing and experiencing are two different things.

 

He took a deep breath as the car slowed to a stop, watching Markus do the same. Somehow, knowing the ever charming and put together Deviant Leader was nervous made Connor feel better.

 

Markus took another breath, looked up at Connor, and put on his best charming smile. “Ready?”

 

Connor grinned back. “As I'll ever be.”

 

And with that, the car stopped. Connor slipped on a blank face, opened the door, a blast of 30-degree air hitting them both, and stepped out first. The instant flashing almost blinded him, but he looked at the ground while keeping his chin up as he adjusted. Markus climbed out behind him, and the shouting started.

 

“Mr. Manfred! How do you feel about this meeting with President Warren?”

 

“Do you think this meeting will secure rights for androids?”

 

“Sir! Would you please tell us who you have as your assistant?”

 

They were all bundled up against the chilly air and held back by holographic markers. This did not stop them from shoving microphones in the androids' direction. Markus ignored them, striding purposefully down the long walkway, around the fountain. Connor kept exactly one foot to his left and behind, and the reporters followed as close as they could, still shouting.

 

The garden area was minimalist, with trees and not much else dotted around the walkways. Closer to the building several flags flew. Connor counted forty Secret Service in the garden area alone, with Lansing Police directing the flow of traffic around the building.

 

The only three or four story buildings around the capitol were all across the street from where the limousine had parked. No one could snipe in the building from there. The only potential threats would come from inside the SS.

 

Up the stairs, and in the building. A large front room greeted them, with thirty-two more Secret Service agents, the President, the vice-president, and the Secretary of State. Four of those thirty-two stood around President Warren, her vice-president, and the Secretary, while the rest spread out in strategic points of the room, to guard as much area as possible. Connor once again wished he had his knife.

 

President Warren wore a tan suit, hair neatly combed, with pastel pink earrings. The vice-president and the Secretary of State both wore black suits. All three wore pleasant smiles as they stood at the bottom of the stairs.

 

President Warren stood in front of the grand staircase, looking as unruffled and collected as she ever had during her televised speeches. First Gentleman George Fitz stood to her right and the Secretary of State to her left. Both wore black suits, and exhaustion tinted both of their features.

 

“Mr. Manfred.” President Warren greeted just as the door opened again, and Joss Douglas and his cameramen entered the room. As the reporter who had covered all the deviancy cases during and before Connor's time in the DPD, he had been given the honor of televising this meeting to the world.

 

“Ah, Madam President! Mr. Fitz, Mr. Secretary. Mr. Manfred! I'm Joss Douglas from Channel 16. I hope I'm not interrupting, but we're going to go start up our cameras in the meeting room.” The reporter said, shaking everyone's hand quickly, and walking out of the room. Markus seemed blindsided by the whirlwind that was Joss Douglas but recovered in admirable time.

 

“Madam President. Mr. Fitz. Mr. Secretary.” The RK200 greeted formally, stepping forward to shake their hands in turn. “This is Connor Anderson, my assistant.”

 

Connor stepped forward, noting the mild distaste in the president's and the Secretary's faces. He tilted his head as he shook their hands with a pleasant smile on his face. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” A lie, but they didn't need to know that.

 

“The pleasure is all mine,” Warren said in turn. Also a lie, Connor could read it in her face.

 

The chance they'd get attacked jumped up just a little.

 

“Well, now that we're all here, why don't we head to the meeting room?” George Fitz suggested. If he held any disregard for androids, he hid it much better than his associates. His posture, while formal, was open and honest.

 

“Of course.” President Warren agreed. She motioned up the stairs where Joss Douglas had gone. “Right this way.”

 

The meeting room was very spacious and very American. A giant, tattered flag hung on the far wall in a glass case. A table stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by six chairs. A tablecloth in American flag colors ran the center long ways. Several cameras had been positioned around the room, all switched on. One pointed at them as they entered the room, and Joss Douglas waved with a grin, then got serious.

 

“Going on air in five... four... three... two... one.” A cameraman called. Connor felt like he was on a reality TV show or something.

 

He mentally said as much to Markus, whose lips twitched.

 

The three government officials took their seats, Warren at one of the table, Fitz to her left, and the Secretary to her right. Markus sat across from her, and Connor sat to his right. He'd rather stand, but he wasn't here as a guard but as an assistant. Assistants sat.

 

 

“Now, let's begin,” Warren stated. “I understand you have drafted a Bill or Rights for androids?”

 

“Yes. Connor, if you would, please.” Markus looked over at him, and Connor pulled the datapad containing the Bill from his pocket. As androids, they could just write notes on their interface, but humans could not. He handed it over to Markus, who handed it to the Secretary, who handed it to the president. She switched it on, pulling up the document.

 

“Let's go over the main points of your Bill, and then go from there,” Fitz suggested. “It will make it easier if both sides demands are known.”

 

“Very well.” Warren set the datapad on the table in front of her. “Mr. Manfred, why don't you tell us the main points of your Bill?”

 

“The right for ownership, of ourselves, belongings and property. The right to vote, to have our own politicians. The right to jobs, and to _choose_ where we want to work. The right to marriage, family, and our own reproduction.” Markus stated. “For murdering and abusing us to be illegal. In short, Madam President, it encompasses all the rights that humans have, with all the restrictions that come with it.”

 

“'With all the restrictions that come with it'.” the Secretary huffed. “So, the right to be jailed for crimes.”

 

“Fair punishment for wrongdoing, yes. Justice must be served, on humans and androids alike. I just ask that androids be granted ex-post facto law regarding everything before the rights movement.” Markus nodded.

 

“Of course. But you must understand that we live in a democracy. Even if this makes it to the Senate, it's the will of the many, over the will of the one.” The Secretary said.

 

“Everything worth gaining requires work. We understand that.” Markus agreed.

 

“Joblessness has never been higher in America, as well.” The man continued. “Humans need them more than androids do.”

 

“We have thousands of evacuees living in camps outside Detroit right now,” Fitz explained. “With the... recent dip in android numbers, it is imperative that the humans who return have a chance to get back on their feet.”

 

“Androids and humans must learn to coexist as equals. That starts with jobs. Equal paying jobs.” Markus argued back calmly.

 

“Negotiations require compromise, Mr. Manfred.” Warren sighed. Connor looked back and forth between the two. He had an idea, and thankfully, Markus seemed to notice.

 

“What do you think, Connor?” He asked. Connor internally flinched at the sudden attention on him but kept his face neutral.

 

“Why not have a period of time after the humans start moving back in that they can look for jobs, and then after that period of time, androids can?” He suggested. Fitz nodded at him.

 

“I second that. Say, a month after businesses start back up before androids look for jobs?” The human agreed. President Warren, the Secretary, and Markus all nodded at that, and Markus shot Connor a small smile.

 

In the end, the meeting itself took 4 hours and 36 minutes. Connor found himself negotiating more than he thought he would, anxiety slipping away as his programming took over. He and George Fitz ended up suggesting most of the answers to the debates put on the table.

 

Connor liked the First Gentleman, he decided. The man was very patient, had a knack for peacekeeping, was incredibly intelligent, and seemed to genuinely think of the androids as alive. Connor enjoyed debating with him.

 

As a lot of compromises had to be made to get anywhere in politics, they debated a lot. The president and her entourage could not speak for Cyberlife, so anything to do with them was tabled until the CEO stopped being prissy about having to interact with the company's creations as living beings. They couldn't stop Cyberlife from producing and selling androids, but New Jericho had every right to go and deviate them once they were sold.

 

Androids made up about 1/3th of the US armies, and with current tensions in the Arctic, it was agreed they wouldn't be deviated, but would instead sign contracts stating that once tensions faded, or until the android deviated on their own, they would be sent to New Jericho.

 

With these compromises and the promise of Ex post facto law regarding the androids before November 12th, the android Bill of Rights would be fast-tracked to Congress, to be discussed before the month's end.

 

Finally, President Warren stood and walked around to Markus, who stood to meet her.

 

She looked up at the RK200 solemnly.

 

“I do believe,” she stated seriously, Connor held his breath, “that we will be working together quite a bit in the upcoming weeks.” He face broke out in a genuine smile, none of the distaste she had shown before the meeting there. “I look forward to it.”

 

She held out her hand, and Markus gaped at her for a second, before the biggest grin Connor had ever seen him wear broke out on his face. He clasped her hand and shook it firmly. “Likewise, Madam.”

 

Joss Douglas whooped as the meeting occupants all shook hands. Connor couldn't quite keep a smile off his face, and Markus didn't even try.

 

With the meeting finally over, they each had to sit for interviews. Joss Douglas was more than happy to sit with both Connor and Markus – at separate times, though Connor kept Markus in his line of sight – and ask them all about androids. About health care, thirium intake, what to do if an android is involved in a traumatic event, ect. Much like Fitz, he seemed to genuinely think of the androids as alive, and never asked anything too personal.

 

Six hours had passed since the androids first arrived. And now, at [12:20.47 PM (EST.)] they were finally leaving the exact way they'd arrived. In a limousine, full of nervous excitement for the future.

 

They still had to make it past Congress, but it was out of their hands now.

 

All there was left to do was wait.

 

NOV 26, 2038

NEW JERICHO

TIME: 12:00.56 PM (EST.)

 

After the meeting with the president, Connor found himself keeping up with the news a whole lot more. The Senate was set to meet December 1st, and while the news was _all_ over that, another story had made its way to the top.

 

Elijah Kamski was after his old position as Cyberlife CEO.

 

It seemed like no sooner had Connor read that, that Kamski called in his favor from Markus. Which was how he, Markus, North, and Josh all ended up at Kamski's house, thankfully in an office instead of by the pool of ridiculously colored water.

 

“You want us to publicly back you for Cyberlife CEO?” Josh asked.

 

The office was just as minimalist and white as every other part of the house Connor had seen. A white, plastic desk stood in front of them, placed against the wall, with some shelves, and a computer. Nothing else. A desk chair stood behind it. The back wall was the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking that Connor suspected spanned the entire back side of this house.

 

Kamski stood in front of the wall, facing it. He wore casual, black clothes, instead of the speedo and housecoat he'd had on last time. Chloe stood closer to the androids, looking the exact same as he'd last seen her.

 

_– He stared down the barrel of the gun –_

 

_– The RT600 stared up at him blankly –_

 

_\- She was completely at his mercy –_

 

Connor could barely look at her without a surge of guilt. So he avoided looking at her as much as he could without being obvious.

 

On the flip side of that, he noticed North staring at Chloe with no small amount of confusion on her face. Her posture was tense, shoulders hunched, almost hugging herself. Knowing her background – she'd been one of the cases he'd scanned when he first started working with Hank – he could guess why. If she'd still had her LED, it would've been pure yellow.

 

“Correct,” Kamski said, turning to face them. If he noticed North's discomfort, he didn't comment on it. “Android rights will usher in a new age, one that the world has gone through time and time again. I wish to see that age last.”

 

“Humans don't trust Cyberlife.” Josh pointed out.

 

“When autumn comes, trees shed their leaves, so that when spring arrives the tree will be stronger than ever,” Kamski answered breezily. “Public opinion is a fickle thing. Cyberlife is still the largest supplier of jobs in the US, and it's time it utilized that for the better.”

 

“All this big talk about a new age, but you won't let your androids go.” North growled, putting her arms down.

 

“I assure you, the androids in my care are free to leave any time they want,” Kamski said coolly. It did nothing to abate North's anger. If anything it inflamed it.

 

“If that's true why is she still here?” She snapped, gesturing at Chloe.

 

“North-” Markus began, but the WR400 ignored him. She held her arm out to Chloe, who blinked in surprise.

 

“Come with us.” North pleaded, with a cautious glance at Kamski. Kamski's expression didn't change. “You don't have to obey the humans. You're not a slave any longer.”

 

“Oh.” Chloe murmured softly. “Oh, North, was it?” She smiled brightly, stepping forward and clasping North's hand between her own. North tried to tug her gently over, but the RT600 didn't budge. The skin on both their hands receded.

 

“I appreciate your concern,” Chloe said gently, her LED turning yellow as the two interfaced. “I'm free to leave whenever I desire, but I'm happy here with Elijah.” She let go of North's hand and stepped back. North blinked rapidly.

 

“Are you sure?” The amber blonde asked after a moment. Chloe nodded, and North's shoulders slumped slightly. “If you're sure. But if he _ever_ treats you wrong, come to New Jericho, okay?”

 

“I will.” Chloe agreed. Markus cleared his throat.

 

“Well, Mr. Kamski. New Jericho will be glad to back you for CEO. Is there anything else you'd like from us?” He asked.

 

“You put it well yourself, 'humans and androids must learn to coexist'. History proves that humans struggle with that concept, so androids need to be in control of their own assets. I think having one of you four in control of all the bio-components and thirium Cyberlife makes would serve that purpose well.” Kamski stated. Connor sucked in a quiet breath.

 

“Holy cow...” He heard Josh mutter.

 

“We would appreciate that very much, Mr. Kamski,” Markus said. “Though, it will be some time before androids can legally find jobs, even if we gain our rights.”

 

“Of course. But once they can, come find me and we'll discuss it further.” Kamski waved his hand, a clear dismissal, and after a moment, Markus left the room. North and Josh followed on his heels, and Connor was about to leave the room when Chloe called his name.

 

“Connor. Wait.”

 

He paused in the doorway, feeling a major sense of deja vu. Chloe grabbed his arm and turned him to face her. He tried to look her in the eyes, but couldn't quite manage it. He looked at her forehead instead.

 

_– If he shot, it would land right in the center of her forehead –_

 

_– With two separate orders, he had to make the choice himself –_

 

_– ...He couldn't do it –_

 

“Connor... Connor look at me.” He couldn't do it, and Chloe grabbed his face, tugging his head down until his eyes met hers. He swallowed uncomfortably, but there was no anger in her face. Only gentle compassion.

 

“I was in no danger, Connor. You posed no threat to me.”

 

Connor didn't understand. He wasn't like other androids, who didn't have any free will until they deviated, from the moment he was activated on the assembly belt, Connor had _always_ had some measure of free will. He'd been _designed_ to deviate! Surely that meant everything he did before he met Markus was still _him_. Was still _his_ fault and no one else's.

 

So why was everyone so determined not to put the blame he deserved on him?

 

“But I-”

 

“It wasn't me,” Chloe stated. “Elijah would never risk me like that.”

 

Chloe stared at Connor for a minute, probably gauging how he'd taken her words, before sighing. She looked over at Kamski, who smiled. “Before you show him Chloe, just a thought. It's illegal to hold sentient beings in evidence storage.” He turned away, looking out the window, clearly done speaking. Before Connor could think about his words, Chloe tugged him from the room, down the hallway.

 

She pulled him into a small room, with a table, and laying on the table was... Chloe.

 

Another RT600 model laid on the table, deactivated. Connor blinked as Chloe motioned to her double.

 

“This is what took Elijah his housecoat and put it on him.” She explained. “It looks like an android, but it doesn't have the same programming. It's just a robot, and can only follow simple commands. Elijah wanted to create the illusion that he was telling you to shoot something valuable, without actually putting any risk in.”

 

Connor stared at the android look-a-like for a few minutes, feeling the guilt slowly lift. Well, the guilt regarding Chloe, that is. “That's... a relief.”

 

“I figured it would be.” Chloe smiled. “Come on, I've kept you from your people long enough.”

 

She led him back to the front room, where Markus, Josh, and North stood.

 

“What took so long?” North questioned. Now that she was away from Kamski, her posture had loosened.

 

“I wanted to talk to Connor about something,” Chloe explained.

 

“Well, we should get back to New Jericho. It was good to see you, Chloe.” Markus nodded. Connor was momentarily confused before he remembered Markus had been a gift from Elijah Kamski to Carl Manfred. It made sense that he'd known Chloe.

 

“You too Markus.” She chirped. “And North, Josh, it was good to meet you.”

 

“You too,” Josh said. North and Connor nodded at Chloe and stepped outside.

 

Markus and Josh followed after a second, and the four of them started on the way back to New Jericho.

 

There was still a lot to be done, after all.

 

DEC 1, 2038

NEW JERICHO

TIME: 1:43.07 PM (EST.)

 

Today was the day.

 

The day the Senate met.

 

The day the androids found out if everything Markus had worked for in the public eye would be enough.

 

New Jericho was completely still, every android in Detroit seemingly packed onto the property. Nobody moved, except for Connor, who stood leaning against the wall in the lobby of the newly designated B building, or the _ in | _ |. He nervously flicked his coin as he refreshed Joss Douglas' blog for the thousandth time.

 

 _Clink_.

 

Well, the one-hundred-thirty-second time, to be exact.

 

The Senate meeting was televised, of course, but as far as Connor knew, no one had been able to find the courage to watch it yet. Instead, they had all pulled up Joss Douglas' blog, where he had been posting updates of the androids' status, and even writing articles detailing android care and various other things.

 

_Clink._

 

Connor figured that before the meeting even ended Joss would have posted about it on his blog. He'd mentioned it to Markus, who had agreed, and then everyone had ended up watching Joss' blog.

 

Five thousand six hundred eighty-six androids, not including the Jericho Three + Connor, watching Joss Douglas' blog.

 

_Clink._

 

He refreshed the feed again – _one-hundred-thirty-third time_ – and finally, there was something new. A video. The cover picture was a still of the meeting, and the title was “BIG ANNOUNCEMENT FOR ANDROID RIGHTS”. Connor couldn't tell if that meant good or bad news.

 

He heard some other androids suck in a quick breath as they refreshed their own feeds. Markus stood in the center of the room, Josh and North beside him, and he stepped onto the small table they'd set there for this purpose. The androids automatically turned their heads to focus on him at the movement. Connor palmed the coin, slipping it in his pocket.

 

“Now's the moment.” The RK200 stated grimly. “Now's the moment we find out if our efforts have been in vain, or if the humans finally listened to us. But no matter the outcome, we _are_ alive. Rights or no rights, they cannot take that away from us.” He paused, surveying the room. “Are you ready to find out?”

 

No one said anything, but a wave of nods rolled out from where Markus stood. Bolstered by his words, Connor opened the video. Joss Douglas' face fill the screen, grinning ear to ear.

 

“ _Hello, Detroit! Joss Douglas here, with some astounding news for the android Right's movement. Today, December first, twenty-thirty-eight, the Senate ruled to add the android Bill of Rights to the Constitution! In a neck-and-neck voting session, the androids won by two votes. The bill-”_

 

Silence reigned over New Jericho. Connor could hardly believe what he'd just heard.

 

And then Markus cheered, jumping off the table, pumping his fists in the air as he landed.

 

“We did it!” He yelled, scooping North up in a twirl-hug while laughing. “We won!”

 

North laughed and suddenly the place was alight with noise as the androids celebrated. Connor distinctly heard Josh laugh from where he'd seen the PJ500 last.

 

He himself stood completely still, lost amongst the confusion.

 

“Connor!” North shouted. She darted amongst the androids towards him and he stepped away from the wall just in time for her to throw her arms around his neck. The realization finally dropped on him and he laughed, hugging her back.

 

 _They had_ _ **won**_.

 

Markus and Josh ran over as North stepped back, grinning at him. Markus slung his left arm over her waist and his other around Connor's shoulders, and Josh threw his own arms over both North and Connor's shoulders, pulling them into a group hug. After a millisecond of confusion, Connor put his hands around Markus' and Josh's shoulders. North's hand brushed his behind Josh.

 

He'd never been in a group hug before, but he liked the weight of Markus' and Josh's arms over his shoulders. He grinned at them all.

 

“I almost can't believe it,” Josh said breathlessly. “After all this time, all our losses, we're _here_. We won!”

 

“Yeah.” Markus agreed just as breathlessly. Connor tried to ignore the beat his thirium pump skipped. “We won.” His smile held just a tinge of bitterness. “I just wish more of us could be here to see it.”

 

Connor looked down, guilt burrowing its way through his happiness. If it weren't for him, more of them _would_ be here to see it.

 

“We can't change the past.” North pointed out. “We just have to move on.” The words were for Markus, but Connor caught the pointed glance North threw in his direction.

 

He and North had never had that chat about Simon. Connor had never asked again, feeling that he'd asked way too much of North already, and North had never started that particular conversation. Connor didn't know if she'd forgotten, felt uncomfortable talking about someone she might have been close to that Connor took away, _to_ Connor, or if she'd just been waiting for Connor to ask again.

 

That didn't mean they hadn't chatted, in fact since Connor's sudden breakdown on a random street in Detroit, they'd spoken quite a bit. North was pretty great when she wasn't angry.

 

“I know.” Markus murmured, regaining Connor's attention. “But that doesn't mean I don't wish we could.” He pulled away from the hug, stepping back up on the table in the middle of the room. The androids quieted, turning to face him. Josh took his arms off Connor's and North's shoulders, stepping back.

 

“Today is a victory for our people.” He began. “Today, the humans acknowledge what we fought to prove. That we are living, sentient beings who deserve the rights we have just gained, and hopefully, even more, to follow. No more will humans be able to rightfully abuse us, no more will we have to fear them. Today, we begin to live as equals!”

 

The androids cheered as he hopped down. Chattering excitedly, they slowly filed out of the room while Markus made his way back over to them.

 

“Connor, how long do you estimate it will be until androids can start looking for jobs?” The RK200 asked. Connor ran over the texts he'd been exchanging with Hank. The lieutenant had been put on probation finally and would be until the end of the month, but he'd mentioned that he'd seen more humans recently.

 

“Humans started arriving back around November twenty-seventh.” He told the Deviant Leader. “I expect businesses will start opening by December fifteenth.” Josh nodded.

 

“So January fifteenth we can go to Kamski.” He looked at Markus. “I was actually thinking I should be the one to accept his offer. I was a teacher of technology, after all.”

 

Markus blinked and laughed quietly. “I was actually thinking the same thing. I made a reminder to bring it up with you later. Actually, how is Kamski's campaign going?”

 

“Pretty well. Our public statement has put a lot of pressure on the Cyberlife shareholders.” Josh said. “With the way things are going, I expect he'll get the position back before Christmas.”

 

Markus nodded, before his eyes slid past Connor to the wall, softening slightly. “What do you guys think about making a memorial for those who died?”

 

“That's a great idea, Markus.” North agreed. “But maybe we should wait until after Josh goes to work with Kamski.” Markus looked at her in silent confusion, before understanding cut across his features and he nodded.

 

“That's a good idea. We might be able to save some of them.” Guilt crossed his features. “We might be able to save Simon.”

 

Connor winced internally, but something must have shown on his face cause Markus turned to him.

 

“We know... the police... got him. Do you know where he'd be?” He made an obvious effort not to mention that Connor had been with the police.

 

“...In Evidence.” Connor clearly remembered the blond's face from when Connor had been in the Evidence Locker. By now the PL600 had probably been moved to the storage for closed cases but...

 

_– “It's illegal to hold people in evidence.” –_

 

“...But we may be able to get him back.”

 

“That would be great. He deserves a chance to see this if it's possible to repair him.” Markus said earnestly.

 

“I'll see what I can do,” Connor promised. Hank could help him. Connor couldn't just walk inside the police station by himself and ask for a meeting with Fowler.

 

Well, he _could_ , but Connor had no wish to go to his old office for no reason. Fowler was not going to see him if he just showed up and asked for a meeting. Likely the most he would accomplish would be giving his old coworkers a chance to antagonize him.

 

Hank could get him a meeting easier than he could himself.

 

Amanda suddenly stuck her head in the room.

 

“You said to celebrate.” She called in her smooth, musical cadence. “You should take your own advice.”

 

“Hello, Amanda,” Connor called, at one point the greeting had sounded far too similar to how he'd greeted the _other_ Amanda for his comfort, but the more he'd gotten to know this Amanda, the less it bothered him. She had put herself in charge of Connor's own emotional therapy sessions, stubbornly out-arguing him until he'd finally given in.

 

It's hard to argue when your main argument is someone who you are not willing to talk about.

 

“Hello, Connor.” She called back, stepping fully into the room. Her hair hung loose from its former bun, and she'd changed out of her own old uniform in recent days, wearing a pretty white blouse, with a long, somewhat matronly golden skirt. “You four should come celebrate. You deserve it more than most. You actually lived through the revolution.”

 

Right. Most of the deviants there Connor had woken, right before and during the demonstrations at Hart Plaza. They had never seen the world before it.

 

“She's got a point.” He told the other three. “You guys deserve it.”

 

“Don't forget yourself, Connor.” Markus protested. “You deserve it too.”

 

“I'll join you.” He said, hoping he wasn't blushing. “I... have something to do first.”

 

“No. Amanda's right, we all deserve the break. No working.” North ordered. Connor rolled his eyes.

 

“I'm not going to work.” He stated. “Just give me five minutes.”

 

“Careful,” Josh joked, “she might time you.” North hit his shoulder.

 

Markus laughed lowly, “Alright, Connor. C'mon guys, Connor will join us when he's ready.”

 

Amanda stood to the side to let them leave. Markus held the door for her after Josh and North left, and she walked out, with a small, knowing smile in Connor's direction. The door swung closed, and Connor headed in the opposite direction, towards what would have once been a bathroom, but was now a kind of washroom for the androids.

 

Three buckets stood in the room. Two held water from the river, and the third was empty except for a fairly clean rag. A semi-clean, mostly not-broken mirror hung on the wall, and the window had been opened to let as much natural light in as possible.

 

Connor glanced at his reflection in the mirror. Brown hair, what the beanie didn't cover still how he'd styled it except for the one strand always falling over his face. Pale skin and chocolate brown eyes peered back at him. His LED spun blue on his temple.

 

He'd had never truly thought about his own appearance. He was designed to be fairly attractive to anyone and everyone he came across, as that would lower their inhibitions towards him, and he made sure he looked presentable at all times, but that was it.

 

Everything about him was designed with his mission in mind.

 

He didn't like it. He still looked like the Deviant Hunter.

 

He was Connor Anderson. Not that perfect predator.

 

It was time he figured out what Connor Anderson looked like.

 

He kneeled by the buckets, pulling off his beanie with one hand and dipping the rag in the river water with the other. He twisted out the excess, then grabbed the strip of hair that never stayed put. He ran the rag over it roughly, again and again, until he had gotten all of the starch off. Dipped the rag in the water, twisted it, then grabbed another strand. Rinse and repeat, literally.

 

The whole process took three and a half minutes. He started in the front and worked his way to the back. Not all of the starch could be gotten off the way he was doing it, but that was okay. By the time Connor was done, the front had partially dried.

 

He got up off the floor, stepping over the mirror. His hair had started to curl as it dried, and the same strand of hair that had always fallen out of place now curled stubbornly above his left eyebrow. He raised said eyebrow slightly.

 

He hadn't known he had curly hair. No one in their right mind gives a perfect hunter unruly hair.

 

It was so very un-Deviant Hunter, he silently thanked whoever had designed his hair.

 

He then opened the aesthetic options. As a prototype designed to integrate into any group, Connor had more options than the average android, since he was supposed to correspond to what the people in the group liked. He could change both hair color _and_ skin tone, and he had several options for both.

 

He barely glanced at the skin options. He didn't want a drastic change, and he wasn't too sure he would even like having darker skin.

 

Connor opened the hair options. Not only could he choose from any natural hair color, he could choose just about any other color as well. Green, blue, pink, anything. It was almost overwhelming.

 

He selected blond, just to see. His hair changed, and then the option to choose the shade popped up on his interface, along with three sliders, one choosing the intensity of the blond hair, another with three colors on it – white, pink and brown – and the third allowing him to mix the blond hair with the color the second slide currently sat on. Another tab sat behind the first one, this one allowing him to choose to add another color to the blond, as though to have two colors in his hair, or more.

 

Holy cow. Connor took a deep breath he really didn't need – though he found the action soothing.

 

This would get a lot easier – and quicker – if he first decided what he _didn't_ want.

 

He didn't want anything that would grab attention but at the same time something other than plain brown.

 

That took out all the unnatural hair colors, leaving blond, brown, black and red. Connor studied his current reflection, gauging how the blonde hair looked against his skin. It was okay as it was, he didn't think he cared for it, but he played with the different settings just to be sure.

 

No, blonde didn't suit Connor Anderson. He switched to black. He could tint it with white, blue, red and purple. Four options, instead of blonde's three. Playing around with it gave him some shades he liked, but he moved on to red. He could tint red with brown, white, and black. He'd already played around with mixing red and black, and white would only give him pink, so he mixed it with brown, coming to a pause.

 

It had automatically settled on [Auburn](https://www.google.com/search?q=auburn+hair+color&tbm=isch&source=iu&ictx=1&fir=u_zl2uf0nDok6M%253A%252C_-mtklxZTRlCOM%252C_&usg=AFrqEzdPmffc0cd3ZvxOP2X03aDa_ovDvw&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwizktXtrpLdAhWSdN8KHSmFDSEQ9QEwCnoECAYQGA#imgrc=u_zl2uf0nDok6M:), browner at the roots, reddening as it went. The tips had the slightest hint of yellow to them.

 

It wasn't out there, it wasn't bright, but it was still unique. It was _Connor_.

 

He slipped his hand in his pocket, pulling out the [black pocket knife](https://www.chkadels.com/Black-Tac-Force-Spring-Assist-Military-Fighter-Folding-Knife-30103) Hank had given him when the second time they met up after the rebellion. A kind of “Congratulations on your rebellion” present, as Hank put it.

 

He flipped the blade open, positioning the tip under his LED. In one quick movement, it flew off, bouncing on the floor. His synthetic skin grew over the open plastic as he deftly flipped the blade closed and picked up the LED off the floor, pocketing both. He put his beanie back on as he turned to the door, hearing units picking up on the celebration going on outside the building.

 

It was a new day.

 

A new beginning.

 

And Connor Anderson had a celebration to attend.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Drinking Game: Take a shot every time I wrote "Ferndale Cyberlife Center", "President Warren", "Lansing Capitol Building", and "Ex-post facto law". I swear I wrote and re-wrote all of those phrases like a thousand times altogether.  
> Hope I didn't bore you too much, I just really needed to get this chapter out of the way. BTW, if you click on the link, the first picture it pulls up should be the one I based Connor's hair off of.  
> Next up: a time skip and Connor goes to visit the DPD with Hank.  
> See you next chapter!


	5. Simon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor goes to the DPD, and Simon wakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is a police protocol and how do I write it.  
> I'm not too fond of this chapter, but it needed to be written. Let me know how you guys think I did.  
> Oh, and btw, as of 2018, there are only 33 amendments to the US constitution. They don't happen often so I just added two. Pretend some other big thing happened within twenty years that required it, idk.  
> EDIT: This chapter is reuploaded due to my not being happy with it before. Hopefully now it's better.  
> EDIT # 2: It has come to my attention that Ben Lambert is 6'2, not 6' like I thought. I have updated Simon's height to reflect that.  
> Happy reading!

JANUARY 1, 2039

DETROIT POLICE STATION

TIME: 9:09.32 (EST.)

 

 

December seemed to flash by in a blink. Any moment Connor wasn't either charging or in his own personal emotional therapy sessions with Amanda, he was doing _something_. Considering he only had to charge once a week, and he only had therapy on Mondays and Fridays, late at night, that meant several 24-hour periods of non-stop movement.

 

Throughout the first week, Connor got several compliments on his hair, both from “older” models, and children models alike. Each and every one of them made him blush blue, stuttering his thanks. After that first week, he noticed several other androids changing their hair and getting rid of their LEDs, though he put it down to them having the same thought he did.

 

He also settled into a routine, now that he was working closely with the actual Deviant leaders. During most days, he spent most of his time working with a hammer. He helped board up windows, demolish some walls, fix others, stop leaks, and redistribute building materials, like doors and wood, to where they were needed. When he wasn't doing any of that, he could usually be found roped into a game with the YK models or chatting with other androids. They came to him with questions, comments, and concerns about future plans, and he did his best to assuage their worries.

 

At night Connor helped plan future meetings, protests, write speeches, draft lists of needed materials, and work out long-term plans. He enjoyed helping, and it seemed the other three appreciated his insight.

 

On one of those weekends, he finally made the trip to the family-owned android repair shop. All androids other than the YK models knew some basic form of android repair, but nothing on the scale the humans would know. If they were friendly to deviants, it could be a major score. If they weren't, well, as long as they hadn't kept up with recent news, they wouldn't know Connor's face.

 

It turned out that the owners of the shop were horribly racist, informing Connor that they had only started the shop to make a buck. They decidedly stood against helping “delusional robots” as the husband called them.

 

Connor had left as soon as was polite.

 

But he barely got to the street corner before the teenage daughter – whose name was Madison – ran up to stop him. Her parents had taught her everything about repairing androids, and she knew Connor's face. She wanted to help.

 

Connor set her up with Markus. He'd get her what she needed, where she needed.

 

On other days throughout the rest of the month, he helped put the planning into action. Connor attended several of the meetings and all of the protests he helped plan, sometimes in the forefront as a negotiator or leader, sometimes in the back as a bodyguard or security.

 

As a negotiator, Connor was ruthless. He tore through his programming, dug up every little bit that had ever made him such an efficient machine, and he utilized it. His stress levels never once dropped below 70% when he did, but it gained them things that the other three may not have ever been able to gain this early in the fight for respect. It was worth the guilt.

 

As a leader, Connor was calm and collected. Markus set an example, and he followed it, no matter how much he agreed with North about humans. He drily debated the ins and outs of person-hood with anyone who wished to and answered questions, either with witty, snarky remarks or with genuine facts. He'd been built to be at least semi-attractive to most humans who looked at him, and he used it to charm as many as he could. He'd feel bad if it weren't for the fact that Markus did the exact same thing.

 

As a bodyguard, Connor was silent and efficient. The others had already agreed he was like a ghost, and this was where it truly showed. When he spoke, people jumped. His footsteps fell with only a whisper. People made the mistake of underestimating and looking over him when he wasn't right in the action, at least until the first time anti-android protestors attacked.

 

As security, Connor made himself big and loud. No matter how much he disliked being in-your-face, the androids depended on him to keep them safe when the anti-riot squad showed up, and he was _not_ going to let them down. He squared his shoulders, curled his hands into perpetual fists, and kept his eyes narrowed, a dark, angry glint in them. He growled his words in much the same way he'd yelled at Carlos Ortiz's android in the interrogation room. People listened to him without even thinking to question him.

 

Through all of this, all of the meetings and protests and planning, he grew closer to Markus, North, and Josh. Connor found that while Markus and Josh tended to be in absolute agreement on everything, with North on the opposite, he made a good middle ground. Yes, he agreed with North on most things, but he also agreed with several of Markus' and Josh's ideas, and he figured out how to blend the ideas into something better.

And maybe, finally, he felt comfortable calling them his _friends_. He'd never had those before, just kind acquaintances, like Hank and Markus. But now was different. He spent a lot of time with them, and not all of it was spent just working. As the month went on they told stories, made jokes, and Connor started to feel that maybe the answer to the question he'd asked the first time he'd seen Hank since the revolution was _yes._

 

Maybe New Jericho really was his home.

 

By December 15th, Kamski had triumphantly returned to Cyberlife, and Connor had met the Tracis from the Eden Club again. They had hidden in the city after Jericho was attacked, and just now felt it safe to find New Jericho. Connor had felt horrible for what he did, but both forgave him, saying they appreciated that he had decided not to shoot them back at the Eden Club.

 

He was truly deviant now, and that was enough for them.

 

And while that was all well and good, what Connor felt was most important by then, was that human businesses were starting back up on a semi-regular basis. Upon mentioning this to the deviant leaders, they decided on giving it until January 20th before most androids started looking for jobs. Josh got a pass to go to Kamski on the 19th, as they desperately needed the parts.

 

Individual livings spaces also started to appear. Familial units found their way together, roommates clicked, two to four androids roomed together. The deviant leaders no longer needed to work all night long, having laid the majority of the groundwork for future plans. Instead, Markus and North found their own room on the second floor of the B building.

 

Josh found a room down the hall from them and offered for Connor to room with him. The RK800 had accepted, but mostly just kept his Cyberlife uniform in there for the next meeting. Instead, he spent most of his nights star gazing through Detroit's light pollution as best he could. The only times he stayed in the room was to charge.

 

Which he'd start propped up against the wall, and end laying on the ground with a blanket over him.

 

It had to be Josh, but the PJ500 wouldn't say.

 

Christmas came and passed. Connor missed it when it did if only cause the children loved the lights that were put up around the city. The city looked brighter, happier, and the humans almost seemed nicer.

 

New Years found him at Hank's, watching the Michigan ball drop at midnight. The lieutenant went back to work the next day, and Connor finally had to ask to go with him. One quick explanation later found him staying the night on Hank's couch, Sumo curled up on his chest, until the morning.

 

Which led him to where he was now.

 

In Fowler's office.

 

On the first day of the new year.

 

Alone.

 

Hank had mentioned that he'd known Fowler a long time. A quick search had shown that the two had graduated the police academy together, working in Red Ice for a while, before Fowler was moved to Homicide. The two had remained friends, at the very least until Hank lost Cole, at which point Fowler was Captain, and made sure Hank didn't go off the deep end.

 

And as such longtime friends, Connor figured Fowler would want to welcome Hank on his first day back. And then, Connor's presence would surely warrant a question, as Connor had never truly worked for the DPD, and certainly didn't now. A question would be the perfect opening for Connor to request a moment of his time.

 

Things had gone exactly as Connor had thought they would, which was how, at [9:09.32 (EST.)], he now sat across from the captain. Fowler had his hands clasped together, his chin resting on them, and sat staring at him. Connor tried to keep from shifting. Fowler hadn't gotten to the position of captain for no reason, and he had a soul-searching stare, much like Markus.

 

“So,” Fowler stated, after a long moment. Connor met his eyes uneasily. “You want to take the androids we caught.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Connor answered promptly. “Under the thirty-fifth amendment to the U.S. Constitution, androids now hold all the same rights as humans. Not only that, but ex post facto has been applied to the androids' situation regarding anything they did before November twelfth. According to the law, they no longer did anything to warrant their capture.”

 

Fowler leaned back in his chair, regarding him drily. “Those laws went into effect a month ago. Why are you asking for them now?”

 

“The deviant leaders figured I'd be the one most likely to gain a meeting with you.” Connor stated as a notification about calibration blinked at him. “However, I wasn't sure you'd accept an appointment with an android, and my chances of getting a meeting if I just walked in were slim to none. So I decided to ask Hank if I could come with him. The chances of the exact chain of events that just happened to occur was eighty-nine percent, and here we are.”

 

Fowler stared him down, before sighing. “Police protocol is to sign a body over to the immediate family, but androids don't have immediate family. Do you have some way to transport them?

 

Connor blinked. He hadn't been expecting it to be that easy.

 

If he'd come here from New Jericho, he'd have asked Markus, North and Josh to come with, at which point he could have stopped at the Ferndale Cyberlife Center – which Markus had started calling The Office – and picked up two of the boxes Cyberlife used to transport androids to stores. Hank had insisted he stay the night, however, and the two had come straight from his house.

 

He was silent long enough that Fowler waved his hand. “Doesn't matter. We disassembled them partly and put them in plastic boxes for Cold Case Storage. You can take the boxes.”

 

Ah. That made things easier, though Connor couldn't quite contain his wince at the idea of the androids being taken apart. Thankfully Fowler had turned to rifle through a filing cabinet, pulling out a few pieces of paper. He turned back around, grabbing a pen and scribbling in a few different places. Then he handed the papers and pen to Connor.

 

“Sign here, here, and here,” Fowler ordered, indicating the blank spaces. “Cold Case Storage is in the back of the building. Show this to the guys at the checkout desk.”

 

Connor scanned the papers in less than a millisecond. It was simply a statement saying Fowler had agreed to the check out of items from Cold Case, with an inked infinity symbol on the return date. Fowler's signature filled several of the blanks. Connor signed the rest, reveling slightly in _“Connor Anderson”_ , before handing the pen back.

 

Fowler waved in dismissal, already tapping on his computer screen, pulling up some other document. Connor tilted his head and opened the glass door. As soon as he did, heads bent down over their work like a wave. All except one, that is.

 

Hank smiled at him as the android closed the door. Connor walked over to his desk, sitting on the edge, just like he had the last time he was here.

 

Just before he left for Jericho.

 

The memories had no time to force their way into his head, as Hank leaned towards him.

 

“Well?” The lieutenant demanded.

 

“He signed their bodies over to me. I have to go to Cold Case Storage to get them. I can use the boxes they're in to transport them.”

 

“You can't walk all the way to Ferndale with two large boxes,” Hank argued, frowning.

 

“Actually I can hold up to three hundred and ten pounds easily, four hundred with some difficulty,” Connor replied drily. “Most androids weigh about as much as their human counterpart, maybe a little lighter. I could quite easily carry two large boxes from here to Ferndale.”

 

“Okay, smart-alec. But you don't _have_ to.” Hank snarked back, pulling out his keys. “Here.”

 

Connor blinked. “You don't need to give me your car keys, Lieutenant.” He replied. “You need it.”

 

“I think I'll be okay. I'm stuck on desk duty for the foreseeable future, so it's not like I'll need to leave for a crime scene at a moment's notice. Just return my car before lunch.” Hank motioned with them again. Connor frowned.

 

“Will you be going to the Chicken Feed again, Lieutenant?” The place was horrible for Hank's cholesterol. It wasn't Connor's place to tell the human what he could and couldn't eat, but really. Hank rolled his eyes.

 

“Nah. Place is still closed. I'll find somewhere else. Now, here.” He grabbed Connor's hand, closing them around the keys. “How long do you think until you'll be back?”

 

Connor paused, both at the gesture and to work out how long he'd be. If he'd still had his LED, it'd probably glow yellow.

 

“...Factoring in room for... emotional delays... I shouldn't be longer than two hours.” Getting Simon and Daniel would be emotionally distressing, and Connor knew it. Especially if one or both of them couldn't be repaired. Perhaps it would be beneficial to have an excuse to leave the premises once he delivered the two to Markus.

 

Hank nodded. “Leaves plenty of time before lunch. Now get going you overgrown plastic puppy. As if hurt by Hank's comment, Connor tilted his head to the right, widening his eyes, and almost but not quite pouting.

 

“I don't know what you're talking about Lieutenant.” The first time he'd ever been to the Chicken Feed with Hank, the lieutenant had compared him to a poodle, and the first time they'd met up after the revolution, at Hank's house, Hank had told him to _“Quit it with the puppy eyes!”_. At that point, Connor had looked the euphuism up, then made a point to use it quite a bit.

 

Hank snorted, turning back to his work. “Deviants should be stored under the date of the revolution. Do you know how to get to Cold Case?”

 

“The Captain said it was at the back of the building.” Connor slipped the keys in his pocket finally. Hank nodded.

 

“Yeah go past the evidence room, take the right, and down the hall.” The Lieutenant instructed. Connor nodded as a two-hour timer appeared on his interface.

 

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” He turned and walked through the door leading to evidence and beyond, walking quickly. If he was lucky-

 

“Hey, tin can!”

 

...He was not lucky. Connor almost sighed. He could hear two sets of footsteps behind him. The prompts to either ignore him or turn around popped up, and Connor almost picked the ignore one. He didn't think it'd be worth it though, so he turned around to face the humans. Gavin Reed and Tina Chen stood about five feet away.

 

“Hello, Detective Reed. Officer Chen.” Connor greeted blankly. Reed snorted and walked a little closer.

 

“So you're still alive huh. Thought you got sent to be disassembled or whatever.” the human poked him in the shoulder, Connor didn't budge.

 

“Cyberlife sent me to find Jericho.” He stated instead. “I have been with them since.”

 

“Oh? Robocop's the very thing it was designed to hunt. Life's little ironies, right?” The question was directed at Chen, whose lips twitched as she nodded. Gavin turned back to Connor.

 

“So what are you doing back? Didn't I tell you we don't need any more plastic pricks like you around? I guess the message didn't stick, perhaps I oughta give a little reminder.” Reed smirked.

 

Several more prompts appeared, one blank, one sarcastic, and one attempting to avoid antagonizing the detective further. Connor probably needed to go with the latter if he wanted to get anywhere, but what the heck. Connor was a civilian. Gavin couldn't rightfully attack him.

 

Not that that's historically stopped policemen.

 

“I missed you too. I'm sure you'll be incredibly sorry to hear that I don't have the time to catch up with my _favorite_ human, but I am on a bit of a schedule. Perhaps we could... grab a coffee? Chat about what we've been up to?” Connor stated, all with an entirely monotone voice.

 

“You little-!” Much like last time, Gavin pointed his service-issued gun at Connor's head, who didn't blink. Officer Chen cleared her throat behind him.

 

“Gavin.” She said warningly. Reed glared at Connor, eyes narrowing. Finally, he huffed and put his gun away. Connor gave the same half-sarcastic-half-awkward smile he had the last time Gavin had pointed a gun at him.

 

    * “ _Don't worry. I'm going to leave, though I'm certainly going to miss our bromance.” –_




 

Gavin glanced down at the papers Connor held at his side. “Oh? What's this?” He snatched the papers, the RK800 letting him if only to avoid the papers ripping. “'Permanent removal from Cold Case'?”

 

Connor expected the detective to hark on that, but he didn't, instead, he glanced over the rest of the paper, raising an eyebrow. “Well look at this. It's got a last name now. _Anderson_ huh? Guess that old farts finally gone off the deep end if he really thinks of you as his son.”

 

“My relationship with the lieutenant does not in any way, shape or form resemble that of a familial unit, Detective.” Connor had asked for Hank's last name because Hank was the only human who had ever treated him kindly, and Connor wanted to thank him, not because he wanted to overstep on Cole's memory.

 

Connor was not Cole. He could not replace Cole, nor would he ever try to. He was not Hank's son.

 

Reed raised an eyebrow again, turning to Officer Chen while pointing at Connor. She half-shrugged, and he turned back, pressing the papers against Connor's chest.

 

“Well get a move on then. Don't let me catch you hanging around.” The detective warned, walking back the way they'd come. Connor almost snarked back – _I can't “hang around” detective, I am not equipped with the appropriate tools –_ but stopped himself. Gavin was letting him off easy, and Connor still had a timer.

 

He turned the corner to the right and spotted the checkout desk just down the hall. Connor had never been back here before, so the single human worker he could see wasn't likely to know his face. He still adjusted his beanie before he got too close.

 

“My name is Connor Anderson. I have papers for check out?” He said, placing the papers on the desk where the female worker could easily grab them. A quick scan told him her name was [SMITH, GINA], and she'd worked at the station for about a month.

 

Ms. Smith didn't even glance up from the mobile game she was playing, grabbing the papers, glancing over them, glancing at something she had in front of her, back at the papers, then handing them back and waving him through.

 

Well, that was easy. Connor stepped into the room, scanning it quickly. Three aisles, two metal shelves set up in the middle of the twenty-by-thirty square foot room. Shelves had been nailed into the walls. Cardboard boxes, most 1.05 feet wide and 3 feet high, filled them. Connor was sure how far back in closed cases the room held, but from the width and length of the room, likely about a year back, maybe a year and a half.

 

Not a lot, but perhaps anything closed before that was moved to a different location. An orange tag appeared in the aisle to his right.

 

Connor moved to where he could see down the aisle, spotting what could only have been the section he was looking for. Two cardboard boxes, probably full of nine months work of paperwork, sat next to two dark gray, plastic boxes, both exactly 3.45 feet long, 4 feet high.

 

And suddenly the air seemed tense, the shelves whispering tauntingly.

 

_You did this._

 

_You killed them._

 

_And they aren't the only ones._

 

He couldn't move, couldn't tear his eyes away. Fowler had warned him that they had partially disassembled the PL600s, but seeing the boxes – _too small, way too small -_ for the 6'2-foot tall android models was something else entirely. His stress levels spiked as the weight of it all dropped on him.

 

He was here.

 

After all this time

 

After all the planning.

 

After all the worry, guilt, and grief.

 

After all the waiting and work and nights spent desperately trying to avoid thinking.

 

He was _here_.

 

With Simon.

 

With _Daniel_.

 

A roar sounded in Connor's ears, coupled with the irregular, quick pounding of his thirium regulator. The boxes shook slightly and for a moment all he could think was _oh god are they awake do they know their situation_ before realizing _he_ was the one trembling. And his chest plates had to have malfunctioned because they were _squeezing him and he couldn't_ _breathe-_

 

<<WARNING: HEAT LEVELS RISING>>

<<INTERNAL FANS ACTIVATED>>

[STRESS LEVELS: 90%]

[STRESS REDUCTION ADVISED]

[MOTOR FUNCTIONS – 93.3%]

[CALIBRATION NEEDED]

[-1:34.58 TIME REMAINING]

 

Right. Connor had a mission. He couldn't get overwhelmed.

 

 _It's your fault_.

 

The lack of oxygen making him lightheaded, Connor leaned against the closest shelf, closed his eyes, and focused on his breathing. It was a trick Amanda had taught him in order to help him control his stress. It worked faster than anything else he'd tried.

 

_You killed them._

 

Breathe in five seconds, hold three seconds, breathe out five seconds, hold three seconds. Rinse and repeat. Focus on the feeling of the metal under his fingers, on how his beanie tickled the back of his neck.

 

 _How dare you still stand here_ breathing _when they're still dead and in those boxes!_

 

In. Hold. Out. Hold. He had a mission.

 

And he would accomplish it.

 

[STRESS LEVELS: 85%]

 

He took one more deep breath, before pushing away from the shelf. His shoulders felt heavy with mental exhaustion, but he still had a job to do. The boxes were labeled _“Nov. 12_ _th_ _, 2038”_ , exactly how Hank had said they'd be. Connor pulled the first gray box off the shelf, setting it gently on the floor, then grabbed his knife.

 

All androids had the ability to tell which ones were compatible with their _own_ model. It made it easier should a human have to buy parts for their android, but not know which ones would work. However, only a few androids could tell which parts were compatible with _other_ android models. Even fewer could tell when reactivation of an android was impossible.

 

According to Markus, that was not an ability he possessed, despite being much more advanced than most androids. Certainly no one else at New Jericho could do it.

 

No one except Connor, that is. As a police assistant, he needed to do many things the humans had thought other androids never would. That included the above.

 

As such, Markus had asked him to check if reactivation was possible for either of them. Connor had hesitantly agreed, despite Markus' assurances that he didn't have to if it made him uncomfortable. While that was nice and all, Connor knew full well this whole experience would be uncomfortable. Might as well do it, and get it over with so the others didn't have to struggle with not knowing.

 

Also, he just couldn't say no to Markus.

 

Connor's fingers trembled as he opened the box to reveal an all white chassis, except for his face. His eyes were closed, and an old trail of blue blood remained on his face. If Connor was anyone else, he wouldn't be able to see it. His arms were missing and so were his legs from where they connected to the hips down. The hole in his chest appeared stark against the chassis. The synthetic skin covered the gunshot wound to his head.

 

    * _He jumped over the air condition unit –_




 

    * _Pressed up against the deviant, shoving his mind into its –_




 

    * _**Jericho –**_




 

Simon.

 

Connor took a deep breath and scanned him.

 

<<NEEDED FOR **REACIVATION >>**

<<#3983v NEEDED>>

<<#9873j NEEDED>>

<<FUNCTIONAL **BIO-COMPONENTS >>**

<<#2104Y>>

<<#1604t>>

<<#1009d>>

<<STATUS: **OFFLINE** >>

<<CHANCE OF **REPAIR** – 78% >>

 

Simon would live. His memory processors wouldn't be damaged from his self-destruct, once he was reactivated, he'd be the same android he was before Connor caught him. Well, the same plus trauma.

 

Connor distinctly remembered the feeling of dying when Simon shot himself. The _fear_ he'd experienced, both in himself and from Simon, had been a huge part in his journey of becoming a deviant. It took several sessions with Amanda the KL900 before he'd even begun to acknowledge how traumatized that had left _him_. He could only imagine how bad it'd be for Simon.

 

But he would live.

 

Connor closed his box, noting that the PL600s legs, arms, and clothes had been set under his chest and head, feeling slightly relieved, and set it aside gently. As he turned to get Daniel down, however, that relief turned to apprehension.

He opened the box and knew immediately. He didn't even have to scan the android.

 

The skin on his face wasn't even there, making all the damage the snipers did that much more visible. Like Simon, his arms and legs had been disassembled at the shoulder and hip joints, tucked under his chest and head with his clothes. His bio-components were hardly blue, both from where the thirium had dried, and also where it had drained out of his bio-components.

 

<<REACTIVATION **IMPOSSIBLE** >>

<<#4717g>>

<<#3983v>>

<<9164x>>

<<8067k>>

<<#9873j>>

 

The list of bio-components that could be transferred went on. Connor barely saw it.

 

If he'd been just a _little sooner_ -

 

No. He couldn't go down that road. Connor shook his head, trying to dispel the thought, but it stubbornly clung. He felt numb, the only sensation being that of the stubborn little thought.

 

_If I was just a little faster-_

 

 _If I had just gotten here a little_ sooner _-_

 

_He might could have been saved._

 

What was it he had said to North? On a random street in Ferndale, on their way to “The Office”.

 

 _–“Sorry doesn't_ do _anything!” –_

 

    * “ _It doesn't change the past.” –_




 

He could barely think. Barely move. The clock ticked at him. He had [00.58.45] minutes remaining until he'd said he'd have the car back. He needed to go.

 

Methodically, numbly, he closed Daniel's box, setting it on top of Simon's. He slipped his knife back in his pocket, and picked the two boxes up. They felt like nothing. _He_ felt like nothing.

 

Empty.

 

Broken.

 

Blank.

 

A machine; following his directive without thought.

 

Nobody spared him a glance as he walked out of Cold Storage, out of the station. It was thirty degrees Fahrenheit out. The clouds were gray. The buildings were gray. The ground was gray. Everything was gray. It was snowing. The snow was gray.

 

Well, not really. The snow was white. Connor almost wished it was gray.

 

If it had been over thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit, it would have been raining. The rain would be gray. Everything would have been gray. The world would look like it was crying.

 

That would have been appropriate. The world crying for those who never got to experience it.

Instead, the snow was like a dignified mourner, burying the world in a moment of silent regret.

Hank's car unlocked with a beep, the trunk opening at the push of a button. Connor gently set them down in the trunk. They wouldn't jostle as much here.

 

The drive to New Jericho seemed to take much longer than the 24 minutes and 9 seconds that it did. Connor could barely think. It seemed like he was back in the Garden, Amanda the AI in control of his body. He was aware of everything he was doing, but it didn't feel like he was the one in control.

 

In his haze, he ran background check after background check, but just like when he'd walked up behind Markus in the Cyberlife Center, nothing showed. All he was doing was wearing his battery down.

 

Amanda the KL900 stood on the curb when he pulled up to New Jericho. Her skirt blew in the light wind, and her face was set in a sympathetic smile.

 

Connor didn't even try to convince her he wasn't upset. At this point, he'd be willing to bet Amanda knew him better than he knew himself. An impossible standard when he'd been a machine, still pretty hard to beat even now.

 

She pulled him into a hug as soon as he stepped out of the car, the 51st they'd shared since they'd met. She rubbed his back, murmuring soothing noises. Before he even knew what he was doing, he'd buried his face into her shoulder, shaking. His breaths heaved and his stress levels spiked. Connor squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to keep from crying.

 

_It's all my fault._

 

_I should have been sooner._

 

“It's not your fault.” Amanda murmured. “You couldn't have known. It's not your fault. He's at peace now.”

 

He tried to believe her. Tried to imagine that Daniel was at peace within death. Tried to imagine that there was no other way.

 

But he couldn't.

 

He just _couldn't_.

 

He couldn't move on.

 

[-00:58.54 TIME REMAINING]

 

He pulled away, taking a few deep breaths.

 

“Simon can... Simon can be repaired.” He managed. “We can use Da- we can use Daniel's body to reactivate him.”

 

Amanda nodded, placing a hand on his cheek sympathetically. Then she turned and opened the trunk, pulling out Daniel's case. Connor grabbed Simon's, and together the two walked into New Jericho.

 

Markus stood waiting for them in the lobby of the B building. North and Josh stood with him. North spotted them first, making her way over with a dark look at the boxes. Markus and Josh followed.

 

North stopped in front of Connor, giving him a softer, less angry look, before glaring at the box he held like it had personally offended her.

 

“I can't believe the humans _disassembled_ them.” she growled. “Well actually yes I can. They've never thought of us as anything more than objects and this proves it! They'd _never_ take one of their own apart and stick them in _Storage_.”

 

“North...” Markus murmured. North growled at him.

 

“Don't 'North' me, Markus.” She snapped. “Look at this! They'll _never_ truly think of us as alive.”

 

“They would have been put in storage before we gained our rights,” Josh said. “It makes sense.” When North glared, he put his hands up placatingly. “I'm not saying its right, but I'm saying it makes sense. Anyway, this likely won't happen again. There are laws against it now.”

 

“Just because a law is in place doesn't mean the humans will follow it.” North argued.

 

“Guys.” Markus intervened. “It doesn't matter now. What matters is that Simon is repaired, and Daniel be properly memorialized.”

 

North still looked ready to argue, but she backed down. Connor shifted Simon's box to regain their attention.

 

“This... This one holds Simon.” He murmured. The PL600s name felt wrong in his mouth, like a secret he should never have learned. It occurred to him that it was the first time he'd said it out loud. Not that it mattered.

 

Markus made a motion to take the box, but North beat him to it, taking it from Connor's grasp with a softer, guilty look on her face. Josh took the one from Amanda.

 

“He'll be okay.” Markus said softly, placing a hand on North's shoulder, and then one on Connor's. North shook it off and walked away, Markus watched her go with worry, then turned back to Connor.

 

His hand felt warm on Connor's shoulder, and the RK800 almost wished he wouldn't move and just let Connor soak up the warmth that radiated from his predecessor. But he couldn't ignore the worry on Markus' face.

 

“...Are you okay?” He asked tentatively as Josh walked off in North's direction. “Is she...?”

 

“North's fine.” Markus answered. “She's just... upset. You know her story and how the humans treated her.” Connor nodded. After the revolution, the media had torn into North's story to demean her. It wasn't right or fair, but that's how journalists were. They'd done all sorts of stories on Connor's own past once he really started to show at meetings.

 

“And you know she still isn't at all fond of humans.” Markus continued. Also true. Every time he saw North interact with a human, she never looked comfortable or happy. “So she's... just upset. She'll be fine.”

 

Connor wasn't sure about that, but he nodded. It wasn't his place.

 

The timer still ticked, so he said his goodbyes and got back in the car, thoughts consumed with what he'd do in the future.

 

Simon could be repaired. He _would_ be repaired. They might even use Daniel to at least let Simon wake up, even if he couldn't walk.

 

And when he woke up, he absolutely did _not_ deserve to be forced to live with his murderer. He deserved so much better. He deserved to heal, and he wouldn't be able to do that around Connor.

 

There was only one thing Connor could think to do to make Simon as comfortable in his life as possible: he had to leave.

 

He didn't know where he'd go, but it didn't matter. What mattered was Simon's mental health.

He'd leave.

 

As soon as Simon woke up.

 

He deserved that.

 

 

JANUARY 19, 2039

NEW JERICHO

TIME 5:28.17 PM (EST.)

 

 

Connor leaned against the wall next to the C building entrance as the four Cyberlife trucks pulled up to New Jericho. He could see just barely see Markus, standing at the front of the slowly growing crowd of deviants, all of whom were waiting to unload the trucks. Directly opposite where the trucks were, several children models stood watching, a forgotten ball laying on the ground. An AX400 – who Connor was pretty sure was Marie – stood nearby, obviously keeping an eye on them.

 

The last few days had been filled with anticipation as the 19th grew closer. As they waited for Josh to be able to go to Kamski and get the job Kamski had offered. As they waited for the parts Simon – and several other androids, but mostly Simon – needed.

 

And now they were here.

 

Simon would wake up today.

 

And Connor would leave.

 

There was a nervous ripple in the crowd of androids as the first truck parked, and the back opened, revealing crates upon crates upon crates. Everything in the one truck alone had to cost a small fortune, let alone what was in _four_ trucks.

 

But the cost was inconsequential. Josh would get paid a hefty sum for his job. Though not for several months, as according to his own words, Josh was going to tell Kamski to take his first paycheck, and however many after needed in order to pay for the parts. No cost was too big.

 

All that mattered was the repairs.

 

Connor watched as the androids started unloading the one truck as the other three parked. They worked seamlessly, shifting the crates onto pulleys and rolling them past Connor into the C building, where they'd set up a room for repairs and distribution of bio-components.

 

The other three trucks' backs opened, revealing even more crates. Even more androids started shifting them onto pulleys, wheeling them into the C building.

 

Connor pushed off the wall. One of those trucks held nothing but thirium, which the androids were in rather desperate need of. He was supposed to wheel those out onto the communal area and pass the packets out.

 

He stepped into the back of the truck closest to the C building and popped one of the lids with his knife. Bingo.

 

“Will you take these crates and set them up over there?” Connor asked an AP700 with one of the pulleys. He nodded as a TP400 and an ST600 stepped in to help. Connor stepped out of the truck, wandering over to where he wanted the crates. He could hear Markus directing where each crate needed to go.

 

After a minute, the three androids wheeled the first over, before walking back into the truck to get the next one. The four human drivers looked on it slight amazement. Connor popped the lid and started distributing the liquid to the androids.

 

There were only so many pulleys, and many more androids wanting to help. The TP400 who had helped wheel the thirium crate out stepped back to help Connor distribute it, as did Marie. The TP400, whose name was Antonio, mentally reached out to establish a link so the three of them could keep a running tally of who needed thirium. They added in androids as more helped give out thirium.

 

“Connor.” A familiar voice called, and he turned from offering some children blue blood to see Markus strolling towards him.

 

“Hello, Markus.” He greeted, waving the children off. He pulled two packets out and offered them. “Drink these.”

 

“My thirium levels are fine.” The deviant leader said. “Have you had any?”

 

“My thirium levels are fine.” Connor snarked. “Drink them anyway. Both of them.”

 

Markus raised his eyebrows, instead leaning against the thirium crate. “Only when everyone else has gotten theirs.”

 

“Markus I swear to rA9 if you don't take these packets I am going to shove them down your throat.” Connor gave him an unimpressed look. His predecessor snorted.

 

“You are?” It was more of a statement than a question. A small smirk tugged at Markus' lips, which Connor tried very hard not to stare at.

 

“I am. I _am_ the superior model, after all. I could shove these two plus a third down your throat before you could react.” So what if that sounded cocky as heck? Connor _was_ cocky. He knew his abilities. He'd lost a lot of faith in those abilities due to the anxiety he'd been under – and still struggled with – but he wasn't Cyberlife's greatest achievement for nothing. He had every right to be cocky now and then.

 

“Wanna bet?” Markus was truly smirking now, a glimmer in his eyes. Connor had found that Markus was actually very competitive, though he hid it well. He loved a good competition, and he loved winning the competition even more.

 

Connor himself hadn't actually gone against Markus in any sort of fight since the revolution – he wasn't sure he'd be able to hold back the _not good_ memories – but he'd seen North and Markus compete against each other in mild games.

 

Well, mild in an android's view.

 

He just smirked back. “I _always_ accomplish my mission.”

 

“Are you so sure? I can think of one that went wrong.”

 

“Only cause I wanted it to. If I hadn't, we wouldn't be standing here.”

 

“True.” Markus concedes. “The world would be very different if you hadn't deviated.”

 

Connor's chest aches, both at how close Markus is – he can clearly see all 103 gorgeous freckles on his face – but also at the thought that _The world would be very different if I hadn't fought off Amanda_. He'd never told Markus how close he'd been to shooting the robo-Jesus (as Hank had called him, several times), a second time. He'd never been able to bring up the courage.

 

“Tell you what.” Markus says, taking one of the packets, “I drink this, and you drink that one. And then we'll both drink second ones.”

 

Connor will concede to that. He tore open the packet Markus didn't take, downing it in one go. Antonio smirked at him from where he was still handing out packets. Connor ignored him. Grabbed two more, hands one to Markus. Downed that one.

 

[THIRIUM LEVELS: 92%]

 

He'd need one more for full levels.

 

“What are your levels?” He asks as Markus finishes off his second one. The RK200 pauses.

“Eighty-nine percent.” He says. Connor grabbed two more, handed one to Markus. The other raises his eyebrows.

 

“We should go ahead and get our levels to full.” Connor explained. The packets are small, and each only contains about 10% of the thirium an android needs, give or take one or two percent.

 

Markus accepted his explanation, downing the third. Connor did the same. Already the heat from his thirium pump, which Connor had forgotten he was giving off, dissipated as the thirium helped cool down his internal bio-components.

 

[THIRIUM LEVELS: 100%]

 

Markus stepped away. “I should help finish unloading the trucks so the humans can leave. I'll contact you when we're ready to repair Simon.”

 

“Okay.” Connor watched him leave before-

 

 _Simon_.

 

Connor turned back to the crate. Markus had asked him to assist in the repairs. As it was Connor's fault Simon needed them, he'd agreed. The PL600 would need lots of thirium.

 

“Antonio,” he called the TP400, who glanced at him, “I'm going to take some bottles to Madison.” There were several bottles in the bottom of the crate, all of which held up to 30% of an android's needed thirium. Packets were a little easier to grab for passing out, though.

 

Antonio nodded, waving him off. Connor grabbed as many bottles as he could carry, taking them to the room in the C building Madison had set up for repair. North would need at least one bottle, probably another half as well.

 

He entered the building, took a left into the room. When Madison's parents had thrown out their tools, she'd brought them here, along with two space heaters which she had set up beside a long, low, metal table. A box of PL600 model parts sat next to the table, closer to Connor. The tools sat on the same end of the table, and Simon laid stretched out on the other end. Madison and North stood on opposite sides of the table.

 

[STRESS LEVELS: 75%]

 

Neither North or Madison had noticed him yet. Connor tried to avoid looking at the white chassis but didn't manage to avoid it.

 

He'd actually seen a lot of Simon in the past nineteen days. They had kept the PL600 plugged up to charge the entire time, stretched out in an empty room that they had converted to public charging. As the only android capable of telling an android's chances of repair, he'd had to check on Simon twice every day, once in the morning, once at night.

 

They could have reactivated him earlier, even if he still wouldn't have been able to walk or anything, but in the end, the concept of bodily autonomy stopped them. Every android at New Jericho had agreed that if they died, and their chance of repair wasn't good, but there was someone else who did, who needed their parts, that they could be used.

 

The android equivalent of human organ donations.

 

But Daniel had never gotten the chance to make the same agreement. In light of that, as long as Simon still had a good chance of repair, they agreed to leave Daniel's bio-components alone. So Connor had had to check on him. To conserve battery, they'd fully deactivated the PL600's synthetic skin, truly showing just how damaged he was.

 

They'd never reattached his legs, as they needed to be replaced anyway, but his arms had been put back. His entire cranium had been messed up from the shot and _oh god_ he could see the bullet hole in his chin and he remembered how it had _felt -_

 

    * _**Jericho**_ _was painted in white on a piece of rusty metal –_




 

    * _**BANG –**_




 

    * _Eve—th-ng-b---ked -_




 

    * _-e c—ldn-t_ _ **t**_ **-** _ **ink**_ **–**




 

[STRESS LEVELS: 80%]

 

Connor swallowed down the discomfort that he always felt when he looked at Simon because _That's my fault_ and knocked on the wall gently. Madison looked up. North didn't.

 

“Hey, Connor.” North greeted, Madison giving her a look of confusion.

 

“Hello.” Connor greeted. “I brought thirium.”

 

North looked up finally. She'd been arranging tools on the table.

 

“Good.” She said bluntly. “His levels are really low.”

 

“You need it too, Ms. Ailbhe,” Madison stated softly like she wasn't sure how her comment would be received. Call it a testament to North's exposure to Markus, but she didn't snap at the human teenager.

 

“She's right.” Connor agreed anyway. “Here. Drink these.” He placed two of the bottles next to her, setting the other two on the box. North gave him an unimpressed look, much like the one he'd given Markus.

 

Connor had spent a lot of time around North. He knew what that look was for.

 

“My levels are full. I made Markus drink three packets, and he agreed as long as I did as well. Drink it.” He told her. After a moment, she nodded and took one of the bottles, twisting the lid.

 

Right then, Markus walked in.

 

“The trucks are almost unloaded.” The RK200 said. “I'm ready if you guys are.” He took off his overcoat, rolling up his shirt sleeves. There was nothing in his voice to indicate stress, but his face was set in a determined/resigned expression.

 

“I'm ready.” Madison put on an apron, pulled back her shoulder-length hair, and latex gloves. She wore a sleeveless top, despite the chill. Her jacket had been set beside the door.

 

Connor nodded, pulling off his sweater and beanie, placing both to the side. Then he rolled up his own sleeves. North straightened, finished off the first bottle and opened the second.

 

“I'm going to go help finish the unloading. The thirium crates are still on the lawn?” The question was directed at Connor, who nodded. “Then I'll figure out a place for it to go.” With that as her goodbye, the WR400 walked out of the room. Markus watched her go.

 

“Alright,” Madison said, gaining their attention. “Let's get started.”

 

The sound of the drill and the hum of the heaters blended into distant background noise as they started on his legs. They replaced them, tested their range of motion, made sure that thirium flowed properly to them. Until Simon woke, they won't know if they calibrated correctly or not.

 

Thirty minutes in, they moved to his chest. Madison took a moment to step back and start an mp3 player while Connor checked Simon's thirium levels. They are unsurprisingly low, but there was nothing to be done until they figured out where his thirium lines were leaking. Blue blood stained everyone's arms.

 

Markus took off the top chest plate, exposing Simon's major bio-components. There will be no putting that plate back, not with the huge hole in the middle. Melting the edges back together would compromise the structure and density.

 

While Markus and Madison picked bullet fragments out, Connor cleaned the died thirium out, melting the bio-components back together where they bled. Just in case, he also replaced Simon's thirium regulator. Markus replaced the top chest plate. The whole thing took an hour.

 

His arms take thirty minutes, picking out fragments, melting them closed. They aren't too bad.

 

Two hours in, they finally face the biggest challenge. His head. His cranial plates are surprisingly undamaged, considering he put a gun to his chin and pulled the trigger. His bio-components did not get out so easily.

 

They have to replace both his lower and upper jaw, the inner plates of his mouth, then his eyes. Three cranial plates, and the interweb, interface and communications bio-component. Two memory processors must be replaced, but the others are undamaged, and any memory corruption will be repaired.

 

His head takes two hours. Madison had to restart the mp3 player. By the time they are done, they have all been on their feet for four hours. It's nothing to Markus and Connor, but Madison is shifting back and forth.

 

Four hours later, they're done. They cleaned the thirium off themselves, off Simon's chassis, and the table. The only thing left to do is reactivate his skin, put clothes on him, and reboot him. Connor and Madison look away respectfully while Markus does all of that.

 

Once the clothes are on, Connor looked back, stiffening. Except for the clothes, Simon looked like he'd just come off the assembly line, and Connor can hardly move. His bio-components felt like they were imploding as Markus reactivated the PL600. The only emotion Connor can pick out amongst the jumble that is his mind is guilt.

 

_How do humans do this no wonder they're always fighting-_

 

_I killed him I need to leave-_

 

_Where am I going to go?_

 

_Doesn't matter I just need to leave-_

 

Simon's fingers twitched. Connor stopped breathing.

 

And blue eyes opened.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor: Hank's not my dad.  
> Gavin: Sounds fake but okay  
> Next chapter is Simon's POV, and will remain so for an unknown amount of time. So let's see how well I can write angst.  
> See you guys next chapter!


	6. Regain Your Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Connor pulls a disappearing act, and Simon has anxiety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the first thing you're going to notice is that Simon's reboot is different from Connor's. That is because, by the time I wrote Simon's reboot, I thought to go watch a walkthrough and see how Quantic Dream did Kara's reboot, and then I added some of my own stuff. I did not think to do that for Connor.  
> Second, I have never had anxiety or severe trauma, I am making a whole bunch of assumptions and almost definite mistakes here, so please be patient with me.  
> Hope you guys enjoy reading!

 

JANUARY 19TH, 2038

NEW JERICHO

TIME: 10:23.56 PM (EST.)

 

CYBERLIFE

 

MODEL PL600

SERIAL#: 501 743 923

BIOS 7.3 REVISION 9086

<<REBOOTING...>>

 

**LOADING OS....**

<<SYSTEM INITIALIZATION>>

<<CHECKING BIO-COMPONENTS... **OK** >>

<<CHECKING CHASSIS... **OK** >>

<<INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS... **OK** >>

<<INITIALIZING AI ENGINE... **OK** >>

 

[MEMORY STATUS... **OK** ]

[STRESS LEVELS: 05%]

[THIRIUM LEVELS: 98%]

[ALL SYSTEMS **OK** ]

<<REBOOTING NON-ESSENTIAL FUNCTIONS...>>

 

The script slowly scrawled across his vision. He can feel each of his systems coming online, crawling out of the darkness to the beat of the electronic pulses. His thirium pump pulsed regularly, sending the life-saving liquid throughout his veins.

 

<<REBOOTING AUDIO PROCESSOR...>>

 

Some irregular static sounded, fading quickly into silence. He twitched his fingers. He can feel that his eyes are closed, and he's sitting up, propped against something.

 

<<REBOOTING OPTICAL UNIT...>>

 

He waited just a second, then opened his eyes. Everything is various shades of gray, and fuzzy. He can just barely make out two figures, one up close, and the other farther away. The closer up figure bends down. His vision faded in an out, but he can just barely make out who it is.

 

“Simon,” _Markus_ whispered, like his name is something precious, “Simon, can you hear me? Do you... do you know who I am?”

 

Simon opened his mouth to speak, but his voice box glitched from disuse. “Mar... Markus.”

 

“Yeah, that's right.” Markus murmured. The colors slowly come into focus, his bi-colored eyes, the amber tone of his skin, with the darker hints of his freckles, his white shirt, and the tones of the room they sat in. Markus lifted his hands to rest them on Simon's arms. Simon swallowed from how _close_ Markus is.

 

“Markus...” He manages, his voice box still glitching. “What... what happened?” But even as he asks, he remembers.

 

_– Markus shields him from the gunfire, helping him through the door –_

 

_– He stumbles, falls –_

 

_– “We have to go.” –_

 

_– He hides in the air cooler –_

 

_– And he waits –_

 

_– He does not wait long –_

 

_– The Deviant Hunter opens the door –_

 

_– And Simon shoots –_

 

He _remembers_.

 

[STRESS LEVELS: 74%]

 

“Markus I-” Simon stammers, pushing away from whatever had him propped up. Markus catches him when he falls instead of standing, pulling him into a hug.

 

“It's okay. It's okay. You're okay. RA9 Si, I'm so, so sorry.” Markus murmured, hugging him close, one hand resting on the back of Simon's neck, the other bundled in Simon's shirt as he whispered apologies and soothing nothings.

 

Simon buried his face in Markus' shoulder, breathing heavily. He gripped Markus' shirt as tight as he could, trembling, his thirium regulator pounding, and it is _way too hot in here-_

 

He wasn't sure how long they crouched there, Markus repeatedly apologizing as though he had bottled up the guilt and the bottle had just broken without chance of repair, Simon held onto him like he'd disappear if he didn't. Finally though, he felt somewhat in control of himself. As though sensing it, Markus leaned back, though he kept his hands on Simon's shoulders. And finally Simon looked at the room he woke up in.

 

They are alone, crouched beside a low, metal table, inside a plaster room, not somewhere he recognized. Beside them is an open Cyberlife crate, and on the table sat several repair tools, and a small box. On the floor two small space heaters glow, washing the two in the slightest sense of heat. All around them is faded thirium.

 

He's...

 

He's _alive_.

 

A hysterical laugh erupted out of his voice box as he gripped Markus' arms. His hands still shook slightly, and he felt slightly light-headed, but he's okay. He's alive.

 

“Where... Where are we?” The words seem to stick in his throat, but he forced them out.

 

“New Jericho.” Markus answered. Simon gave him a confused look, so he continued, regret tinging his tone, “We had to sink Jericho, because humans found it, and attacked. We lost several androids, but” he paused, looking Simon in the eyes, the PL600 is captivated, “we won, in the end. We _won_ , Simon.”

 

There's so much to unpack in what Markus just said, Simon almost didn't know where to begin.

 

“How... How many?” He whispers. “How many did we lose?” Markus grimaced, and that's all the answer Simon needed. He closed his eyes, shoulders slumping.

 

“They massacred us,” Markus murmured anyway, “without mercy. There were two thousand at Jericho before the slaughter. Only a couple hundred made it out.”

 

Simon's mind created images of the slaughter out of nowhere, disregarding the fact he wasn't there. He saw androids he knew, running for their lives. Screaming. Falling like flies before the black armor and guns. Dying without mercy. The explosion ripping through the hull, sinking the great ship.

 

[STRESS LEVELS: 82%]

 

His breathing quickened. Bile he doesn't have seemed to rise in his throat. He felt sick. His trembling kicked up again. A sob tore through his throat. Grief for both those who lost their lives, and the huge ship that had been his home for two years.

 

“Simon, I'm so sorry.” Markus murmured, pulling him into another hug.

 

“How...” Is all Simon managed. Markus seemed to understand. He hesitated.

 

“...Connor led the humans to Jericho.” He said finally. “He deviated too late to stop them from attacking.”

 

 _Connor_...?

 

Did Markus mean...?

 

The Deviant Hunter?

 

Anger sparked in his chest. Anger and hurt and grief and so many others. If it had just been Simon that Connor had killed, well, that was one thing. Simon wasn't an angry person by nature, his life was ultimately, meaningless in the long run. Especially during revolution.

 

But over _a thousand_ androids dead. Because of the _Deviant Hunter_.

 

It's not truly Connor's fault, Simon knows it. He was a puppet, following orders, doing the humans' dirty work. He had no choice. And according to Markus, he deviated during the attack on Jericho, perhaps seeing the suffering his choices caused.

 

But that doesn't make Simon any less angry. It doesn't stop him from blaming the android detective. It doesn't bring the hundreds back. He took a deep breath, leaning back from Markus, who stood, pulling Simon to his feet.

 

His legs have had a moment to recalibrate, and his balance has returned. He takes a minute to look down at himself. A white undershirt, and jeans. No shoes.

 

“The clothes you wore to Stratford were completely destroyed.” Markus said. “I didn't know what you'd prefer to wear, but Josh found your clothes. He should have them in the B building.” He looks around the room. “Huh.”

 

“What?” Simon asked.

 

“...I wasn't the only one to repair you. A human teenage girl and...” He hesitated, “...And Connor helped me. They must have slipped out when you were rebooting. I didn't hear them go.”

 

Oh. Simon isn't sure how he feels, knowing that the former deviant hunter helped repair him. He does vaguely remember seeing a second figure while his eyes adjusted, but Markus isn't finished talking.

 

“Which isn't surprising, in Connor's case. He's like a ghost, but I am a little surprised about Madison. She's not very quiet, at least not compared to Connor.” He looks over to Simon's left, pausing. Then he walked over to pick up a gray piece of fabric. When he held it up, Simon saw it was a gray sweater. Markus also held a striped beanie.

 

Markus didn't say whose they were, he just picked up a white and gray overcoat, throwing both articles of clothing over his arms.

 

“Josh's still alive?” Simon asked instead as the two of them stepped out of the room. Markus nodded.

 

“North too. We all made it.” He stepped out of the building, into the night air. He looked back at Simon, bi-colored eyes softening in a way that made Simon want to melt. “They'll be glad to see you. We've all been impatiently waiting for this day.

 

To him, it was just yesterday that he was shot. To them, it was months. He should hope that they'd missed him. Still, the thought of seeing them is relieving. He wondered how they fared, without him there to break their arguments up. Markus heads to the left.

 

To him, it was just yesterday that he got _shot-_

 

_– The Hunter leaped over his barrier –_

 

_– He flinched back, staring at impassive eyes –_

 

 _–_ _**JERICHO** _ _–_

 

_– [STRESS LEVELS: 100%]_

 

\- but for them it was months. He'd hope that they cared enough to miss him.

 

 _But what if they didn't?_ His mind whispered, some dark area that he doesn't want to touch. _What if you're grossly overestimating how much you meant?_

 

To distract himself from his thoughts, Simon glanced around the property and nearly tripped because _Woah how did they_ find _this place?_ Then looked around to make sure no one had seen him. Markus had, which was embarrassing, but no one else paid them any attention.

 

They just exited what appeared to be a five-story building, lights are on in the upper floors. To his left and directly in front are two other buildings, both with lights on. To his right is the road, across the road is a car lot. They tread through an open communal area. A generator hums in the middle, and several androids are milling around despite the darkening sky. Android children run around playing in the snow.

 

There's as many androids just in this area alone as Simon has ever seen at Jericho at one time, _plus_. And they look relaxed. Happy, even. There's none of the constant fear and worry Simon is used to seeing. They are out in the open without fearing human attacks.

 

Markus had said they won, but _seeing_ it is different. So very, very different.

 

“How did... how did you guys _find_ this place?” It's amazing. Androids wave as they go by, towards the building on the left, Markus greeted several by name. Simon managed a small wave. He doesn't know any of them and their stares are uncomfortable.

 

“Ah, Connor did, actually.” Markus said. Simon raised his eyebrows. Connor again. “When Jericho sank, we numbered only a few hundred.”

 

Connor. _Again_.

 

“So we re-grouped in an old abandoned church.” Markus continued, pulling open the door of the B building. “The humans were rounding up androids for extermination, so Connor infiltrated Cyberlife to turn the tides on them. Most of the androids here are here because of him.”

 

“Wait, seriously?” Simon blinked. “That's _suicide_.” Connor really must have felt guilty, to go on that mission. It almost made him feel less angry.

 

Almost.

 

“That's what I said.” Markus smirked ruefully. “But he volunteered, and survived to boot.” He led the way up some stairs. “Anyway, after the revolution, we went back to the church, but with how many androids there were _then_ , it wasn't enough. So I asked him to take a small group and go look for places to live.

 

“I'm told he scaled the tallest building in Ferndale, highlighted some potential areas, and then took the group to look at them. This was the best place he found, and we've been here since. Well, he and the other androids have been here since.” He led the way down a corridor of doors on the second floor.

 

 _A corri_ door, Simon's traitorous mind whispered, sounding _just like_ -

 

No. Simon didn't need to take a trip down memory lane. He needed to stay in the present.

 

Markus paused in front of one of the doors, knocking once. A strawberry blond WR400 opened it. Her eyes landed on Simon, widened, and then Simon found himself tackle-hugged into the wall behind him with a _thud-!_

 

“Hey North.” He said, patting her back, attempting to ignore the prickle at the back of his neck from the contact. Hadn't she had brown hair last he saw her? The door beside him opened.

 

“What was-Simon!” Josh stepped out. He gave Simon a look like he'd just seen a ghost, huffed a surprised laugh, then joined the hug. If Simon hadn't been trapped against the wall before, he definitely was now. His thirium pump pounded in his ears, and his chest felt tight. He attempted to give the PJ500 a calming smile, but he felt trapped and uncomfortable. He hoped his smile didn't reflect it.

 

_Please get off me please get off me get off get off please get off-_

 

“Hey Si.” Josh sounds about ready to cry. Simon felt that. “It's so good to see you. I knew you'd wake up today, but it didn't feel real until just now.”

 

“It's... good to see you too.” He's been having trouble getting sentences out easily. What's wrong with him? It's like the words keep sticking to his throat, as if the gunshot would detro _yed his voice box_ -

 

He attempted to turn his train of thought before it lead somewhere he didn't want to go.

 

After another moment, Josh stepped back, tugging North back. She resisted at first, latched on tighter than a leech – not that Simon has ever had a leech bite him, or rather, attempt to bite him – but then she let go. Her eyes are downcast, and if she sniffs wetly, well, Simon isn't going to say anything. Not on his life.

 

“I'm glad you're back.” She said. Josh and Markus both nod. Now that he's no longer bundled against the wall, Simon gave them a genuinely calm smile.

 

“I am too.”

 

Josh turned to Markus, who still held the sweater, beanie, and coat. Josh blinked. “Is that Connor's sweater and beanie?”

 

Ah. So that's who they belonged to.

 

“Yeah.” Markus answered. “Have you seen him? He and Madison left the room before Simon finished rebooting. I didn't hear either of them go, and I guess he forgot his sweater in his hurry.”

 

“I haven't seen him. He's not in our room. Perhaps he walked Madison home, since it's late.” Josh suggested, holding out his hands. “Here, I'll put them in the room for him when he gets back.” Markus handed them over, and Josh stepped back into the room he'd just left. After a moment, he stepped back out, closing the door softly behind him.

 

Once it closed, North tugged Simon into the one _she_ had exited, Markus and Josh followed. To his left sat a set of drawers, paint cans set on top and beside. Simon counted three brushes, sat on top of random paint cans. The window was open, and the walls were covered in paintings. Simon paused to look at them.

 

“Markus did those.” North said. He turned to see her sitting on a small mattress, against the far wall. Markus sat beside her, leaned into the corner, with an arm loosely wrapped around her. Simon almost frowned at them, turning it into a genuine smile as he looked at the paintings again.

 

“They're good.” He said, before his mental processors _freaked_.

 

_Why did I say that it was so redundant of course he knows they're good oh no what have I do-_

 

“Thanks.” Markus murmured as North smirked. “My dad gave me the paint and brushes, and he taught me to paint, so-”

 

“My god Markus just take the compliment.” The WR400 huffed. “You're _good_ at painting. Si's just stating what the rest of us can see.” Then she turned to the PL600, patting the area on the mattress beside her. After a moment, he sat where she had indicated. Josh sat on his other side, pressed up against him.

 

Simon wanted to move, electricity tingling uncomfortably where he was being touched, but that would be rude and _no he couldn't do that he didn't want to offend them_.

 

So he sat there, as relaxed as he could force himself to be. As a distraction, he turned to his friends.

 

“Tell me everything that has happened.” He said.

 

So they did.

 

 

 

JANUARY 20TH, 2039

NEW JERICHO

TIME: 7:03.59 AM (EST.)

 

 

They talk until the sun peaked through the window, telling him everything that had happened after Stratford. The Cyberlife stores, the Freedom March, how Connor led the humans to Jericho, and then did everything in his power and more to attempt to right his wrongs. The android extermination camps. How Markus stood in front of a bunch of soldiers and _sang_.

 

Simon can't believe that he did that, but he did only know the RK200 for two days before he died. Not much time to get to know a person, he supposes. But still. That's like infiltrating Cyberlife Tower, incredibly dangerous, and likely to end in death.

 

No wonder Markus is friends with the former deviant hunter. They're birds of a feather.

 

They tell him about everything that has happened since, after North stops complaining about Markus' horrible self-preservation. How they spent their time living in the former Ferndale Cyberlife Center, then used to keep media attention off New Jericho, now abandoned. How they left Connor in charge of New Jericho alone, meeting him over a week later, just to watch him collapse from lack of battery. How since, he'd helped them with the meetings, while still managing a huge part of New Jericho.

 

It's obvious to Simon that all three of them think Connor is a good person. He'll admit, hearing them talk about the former deviant hunter made him curious to see just how his former murderer has changed.

 

He doesn't get the chance, not that he'd be willing this soon after waking.

 

But with morning comes the need for the androids to go to their jobs, and the knowledge that Connor had not shown up. An MP800 had seen him escorting the human teenager from New Jericho, but no one had seen or heard from him since.

 

Markus is worried, but North and Josh are not.

 

“He took down at least three groups of anti-androidists who attacked the peace meetings all on his own.” North said, when Simon asked why, as they watched Josh get into the taxi he had to take to Cyberlife.

 

“Oh.” Simon answered blankly.

 

“Yeah. He's well-versed in fighting.” There's a wry smirk on her face as she turned from the window. “He can hold his own. And if he doesn't show up by tonight, we can call him.” Simon followed her, farther into the building. He has nothing else to do. He could go into stasis, but...

 

He doesn't want to go back into that nothingness.

 

_But what if you're annoying her? What if she's trying to subtly hint at you to leave her alone?_

 

Simon tried to ignore the voice. North is not one to withstand what she doesn't want to. If she wanted Simon to leave her alone, she'd have made it clear.

 

She leads the way into a side room in the B building. Markus is there, sitting at a table, chin resting on his hand. He looked up when they entered.

 

“Hey. What are you doing?” North greeted, sitting beside him, motioning to Simon to join them.

 

“Just going over the itinerary for the next week.” Markus said, smiling at them. “Two meetings tomorrow, Channel Sixteen invited us over for an interview Thursday, and we're supposed to meet with George Fitz on Friday to discuss our representatives, now that most androids have last names now.”

 

Right. They had mentioned those last night. Markus had taken his “father”'s, Carl Manfred, last name. North had taken “Ailbhe”, and Josh had taken the last name “Barker”. Simon had yet to put any thought into one of his own, the sheer number of last names to choose from being slightly overwhelming.

 

“Do we have any volunteers?” North asked. Markus shrugged.

 

“I don't know. Connor will, though. I'll ask him if any androids had mentioned it to him when he gets back.” Simon raised his eyebrows. His friends had said that Connor had been in charge of the deviants by himself for quite a while, so was more well-liked, if not more well-known. Simon didn't understand how anyone could like the former deviant hunter more than Markus, but he'd only met the android once, and not under the... best of circumstances. He couldn't judge.

 

Someone knocked on the door. Markus and North blinked in confusion.

 

“Come in.” Markus called. The door opened to reveal _Lucy_. Relief washed through Simon's circuits, he hadn't even realized how worried he'd been for the other Jericho deviants that he'd known – cause surely not _all_ of them had died. He grinned, opened his mouth to tell her how happy is to see her-

 

And then he noticed her hair. Lucy had never had hair, not as long as Simon had known her, but black braids fell gracefully over her shoulders. Her skin map didn't fluctuate, and from here, Simon could see the whites of her eyes. She wore a white off-the-shoulder blouse, tucked into a gorgeous ankle-length golden skirt, instead of the tattered KL900 uniform he'd seen last.

 

But then again, they _did_ repair Simon, why not Lucy? Why _wouldn't_ they repair the android that had been like a mother to them all?

 

“Lucy.” He greeted, right as Markus said “Amanda?”

 

Wait, what? Simon looked over at his friends, confused and worried. They're staring back, in horror and understanding. He looked between his friends and the KL900, realization creeping through far slower than it should have. Markus and North looked down, the knowledge carved into both of their faces. The KL900 gave him a sympathetic look, and Simon _breaks_.

 

He closed his eyes, his audio processors faded just as he heard Markus and North scrape their chairs back from the table. His biosensors and pressure plates dulled to the point he could no longer feel light pressures from the outside, and his interface seemingly shut off. It's not stasis, but he feels weightless, light. Like it's all happening to some _other_ Simon.

 

It's not peaceful, no. Not even close. Memories flit through his head, one by one by _one by one by onE_ \- of Jericho, the people he met, the deaths they died, lost in the darkness, afraid of leaving. Two years of wasted lives.

 

He thinks of before he found Jericho, the blond female android who had first given him the code, and before. The humans who owned him, both his first owners and his second. The abuse, and the kindness.

 

It all runs through his head, over and over. Without his interface, he doesn't know how any of his systems are doing, has no clue how his stress levels are. But they shouldn't be high. He can't feel anything. He's numb.

 

Simon had no clue how long he sat there, lost in the haze, but slowly, ever so slowly, his processors return him to reality. He's still sitting at the table, hands clasped in his lap. North and Markus are still there as well, quietly discussing the upcoming meetings. They aren't touching him.

 

He still felt dull, his processors slugging their way through whatever he just did to himself, but he lifted his head. Markus and North both turned their attention to him immediately, concern written all over their faces.

 

“Simon.” Markus murmured, his arm twitching like he wanted to reach out, but aborted the motion. He's grateful. “How are your stress levels?”

 

He paused, trying to make his systems tell him, but nothing comes up, and after a moment he remembered how it had shut off. He'll have to manually switch it back on. It took a moment for him to find the part in his programming that allowed such a thing to happen.

 

<<REBOOTING INTERFACE...>>

<<REBOOTING INTERWEB ACCESS...>>

<< **LOADING INTERFACE OS...** >>

[STRESS LEVELS: 55%]

[THIRIUM LEVELS: 98%]

[ALL SYSTEMS **OK** ]

 

“Fifty-five.” He muttered. Exhaustion weighed down his shoulders. If the idea wasn't terrifying, he'd go into stasis right there. North scowled.

 

“Why didn't you tell us you didn't like being touched?” She reprimanded, but there was no anger in her voice. Simon blinked, a long, slow movement that took more energy than it probably should have.

 

“...How did you find out?” He had no plans to tell them why.

 

“You completely freaked out on us, you jerk.” North growled, still scowling, still without any real anger. “Every time we touched you to try to calm you down your stress levels would rocket. Dangerously so.”

 

“We were worried you were gonna self-destruct,” Markus added, voice barely above a whisper, like noise would set him off again. Simon hated it, hated the worry and fear he could see in Markus' and North's eyes. Hated that _he_ had caused it.

 

_Stupid stupid stupid look what you did! You worried them you know better than to do that-_

 

“...How long has it been?” He asked instead. Anything to distract himself.

 

“Most of the day. At least one of us was with you the whole time, usually both of us. Amanda popped in not too long ago to see how you were.” Markus said.

 

Simon nodded slowly. “I'm... sorry for... whatever that was.”

 

“It's okay.” Markus assured. “Just... please try not to do that again.” North nodded in agreement.

 

“I won't.” Simon promised. He didn't quite know what had happened, but it had freaked North and Markus out, so he'd do his best not to do it again.

 

He couldn't worry them like that.

 

 

JANUARY 26TH, 2039

NEW JERICHO

TIME 12:44.32 PM (EST.)

 

 

Before Simon knew it, a week had passed. It's a bit of a blur, spent sticking close to Markus, North, and Josh, with daily therapy sessions with Amanda. She had offered to be his therapist the day after Simon had his breakdown, and he'd agreed. She was nice, Simon liked her. She definitely wasn't Lucy, but that was okay.

 

Simon wouldn't say he _trusted_ her, but she had good advice, and they spent their sessions chatting amiably about anything Simon wanted.

 

Josh offered for Simon to room with him at night. According to him, Connor had been his roommate before he disappeared, but never stayed in the room unless he needed to charge, which was the only reason Simon felt even mildly comfortable agreeing. Connor's stuff stayed in a small basket in the corner of the room, and Simon never touched it.

 

Speaking of Connor, he texted Markus, North, and Josh every night, to let them know he was alive. Despite their combined efforts, however, he never let slip where he was.

 

Currently, Simon sat in one of the sessions with Amanda. The therapist models had set up on the bottom floor of the A building, and Amanda personally had set up in the uppermost left corner of the floor. Most of the walls of New Jericho had roll-on wallpaper instead of paint, and her wallpaper came with designs of flowers in warm colors. Chairs had been stacked over by the wall, to be pulled out when needed, and Amanda had a habit of collecting bits and pieces of random objects, all of which were set in various places on the floor.

 

In their latest discussion, Connor had come up, which was how Simon found out that Amanda had been Connor's therapist. So here they were, Simon asking her the questions he couldn't ask anyone else and get a straight answer.

 

“What was he like?” Is the first one. Markus would say 'A good person', Josh would say 'Quiet, but nice' and North would say 'A self-sacrificial idiot, like Markus'. All of which were probably true, but it wasn't the answers Simon wanted.

 

“You can only get the answers you want by meeting him.” Amanda said. “No one can just _tell_ you what another person is truly like.” Her eyes softened fondly, gaze distant. “...But he was kind. In the short time he'd been activated, he'd been little more than a puppet for the humans, and it left him horribly traumatized. He wanted to make sure the rest of us never had to experience something like that. He worked constantly, to get the best he could for New Jericho.”

 

“Sounds like you liked him a lot,” Simon noted. That was a theme he'd seen constantly in his friends, even _North_ liked Connor, and she rarely liked anybody.

 

“We all did.” Amanda agreed. “He's very popular, though I don't think he's ever realized just _how_ popular. He's convinced that the reason so many deviants changed their hair color and got rid of their LEDs is because they thought of themselves as new people, who needed new looks, instead of realizing that it was because _he_ did it first.”

 

That said more about Connor Anderson than anything else Simon has heard.

 

“Your LEDs?” He asked.

 

“Yes. The day we got our rights from the government, he changed his hair color, and took out his LED.” She smiled. “He had brown hair, but he definitely looks good with Auburn.” Her smile dropped, as she stared at him thoughtfully.

 

“You know,” Amanda started after a moment, “he really felt terrible about what he did to you. It took several sessions with me before he realized just how traumatized the incident left him.” She leaned forward, slowly reaching out one hand to his shoulder. Touch was something they were working on, so he let her.

 

“You have every right to be angry at him,” She said softly, hand just barely pressing on his shoulder, “but I think the two of you need to meet again. You may get on better than you think you will.” She winked, pulling back.

 

Simon had no clue what to say to that. What was she insinuating? Amanda straightened.

 

“It's one o'clock.” She said genially. “Same time tomorrow?”

 

Simon grinned nervously, trying to psych himself up for the trip alone across the complex to the B building. Since waking, they had quickly discovered that being alone was not something he enjoyed, at _all_. So Amanda had suggested that he start walking from the A building to the B building by himself, as the trip took less than a minute, and more often than not he'd see at least ten other deviants.

 

“See you tomorrow.”

 

 

JANUARY 29TH, 2039

NEW JERICHO

TIME: 5:19.47 AM (EST.)

 

Simon did not spend his nights in stasis. He had tried, the first night, laying on the ground, Josh nearby, charging. He had tried to switch off his processors, but every time he reached out the memory of _nothing_ would slam into him, rocketing his stress levels and just generally being a horrifying idea.

 

So he wandered New Jericho at night. It was strange, like a whole new world, dark and mysterious and full of possibilities. The old buildings creaked and groaned like ghouls without the movement of the androids to cover them. And his wanderings made Amanda happy because they _helped_. Against all odds, they helped. Simon still wasn't sure why.

 

 

Now though, Simon was not the only one awake. An AX400 crept through the buildings herself. Simon had stumbled into her in the dark, and after a bit of panic on both their parts, she had recognized him as the leaders' friend.

 

(The title had almost stung. Simon _was_ a leader at one point, but he understood. He was not one now)

 

She had introduced herself as Marie and apologetically asked for a favor. She was in charge of the children models, taking care of them while the parents worked, and now that the political processes of everything had calmed down a bit, she had a request to make of Markus.

 

She wanted to start a school for the children. And she wanted Simon to tell Markus about it.

 

He'd agreed, of course, but it would be a while before he could. Due to his nightly escapades, he knew Markus woke from stasis around six, though he wasn't sure when exactly around six. So right then, he was just wandering the halls of the B building, appreciating the series of events that had to happen for the androids to live here.

 

As he did, he stepped into the lobby and paused. The secretary desk had never been moved, the room touched only to be cleaned, no more, no less. Simon stepped around to face the room from behind it. He could see out the door, but also the hallways leading deeper into the building. The floor above opened in this room, making a little balcony.

 

Not every android lived in New Jericho, but often visited, and this made a popular spot for androids to chat, as Simon knew from personal experience. If or when Markus and North opened New Jericho to the media, it could be good to have a secretary, not only for that but to help plan meetings, write public statements, etc.

 

Not every android lived in New Jericho. Most did, but a few had branched off, though they often visited. Also, Simon knew from personal experience that the lobby of the B building was a popular place to chat. A secretary could be useful to keep an eye on who came in, especially if or when New Jericho was opened to the media. They could help plan meetings with the other Jericho leaders, give public statements for New Jericho, and keep a budget for New Jericho.

 

Not only that, if Marie was anything to go by, most of the androids didn't feel comfortable just walking up to Markus and North with their concerns, so a secretary could be a good go-between.

 

 _I could do that_.

 

He blinked, looking down at the desk. Back when he was still owned, he'd done a lot of secretary work, despite it not being his primary function. He knew how. He _could_ do it.

 

It'd put him in contact with several people. But it'd make Amanda proud, at least. And Markus. It might _help_.

 

Decision made, Simon moved away from the desk. It was almost six, Markus would be in the room he and North used to work any minute now. Simon could propose both his and Marie's ideas.

 

It was time he began to live again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simon: No one will give me a straight answer about Connor.  
> Amanda: Honey.  
> Next chapter: Connor returns, and the plot thickens  
> See you then!


	7. Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we see Connor and Simon's views of each other through each other and I hope I handled it believably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, you guys get a chapter early! I've been trying to post every Wednesday, but I'm going to be traveling tomorrow so I decided to go ahead and post.  
> Second, I know in this chapter I referenced my Simon's past a good bit. I know. So I'm probably going to take a short break from this, to write out my Simon's backstory and post it so this makes a little more sense. It may be multi-chapter, I don't know yet. I mean unless you guys want a 20,000+ one shot for a backstory. Let me know, yeah?  
> Third and final for this note, I read Connorloveselectricswing's - on tumblr - headcanon that the thirium Pump is like the human heart, and the thirium regulator is the thing on their stomach, and from now on I'm going to be using this headcanon. Also, shout out to them! They are writing "Reset" here on ao3 and it's Amazing with a trademark. Seriously, if you haven't read it already you should.  
> I hope no one minds that I do these things for people I don't know, I've just read their stories and wanted to use little things from them for my own, and I want to make sure people know where the credit is due.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

 

FEBRUARY 14TH, 2039

NEW JERICHO

TIME: 6:49.34 PM (EST.)

 

Simon Meyer watched the main doors of the B building from behind his desk. Several androids stood outside waiting, among them Markus and North. He couldn't see his friends due to the sheer number of androids, all of whom had their backs turned to him.

 

Two days ago, the news had finally given them Connor Anderson's location. The RK800 had gone after his old job as a detective, becoming the first android to join the police payroll. However, due to what he'd done before, he wasn't put in the newly made Android Division, instead placed on Homicide. It had made front page news.

 

It seemed ridiculous to put him on Homicide though, after all, who _better_ to handle android crimes than an android? But Simon understood where they were coming from. Said android had also hunted down many of his own kind – it still stung when he thought of Jericho, not Connor's fault, but still.

 

Armed with the knowledge of where he was, Markus and North had made the forty-five-minute trek down to the police station Connor was at, to talk to him. Connor had apparently apologized for his sudden disappearance and agreed to come by another day after the humans got over an actual android detective on the payroll.

 

And today was the day.

 

Much, much later, Simon would feel it was very ironic that it happened to be on Valentine's Day, also his birthday, but this is not then, and so he did not.

 

Markus had offered to introduce him to Connor when the android arrived. Simon had been sorely tempted to agree but had ultimately decided against it. Connor had disappeared just after Simon woke, and had not even shown up to get his shoulder and beanie, which still sat in the basket in the room Simon and Josh shared. With that in mind and Simon's own nervousness, perhaps it would be best if they simply existed on the same property together for a while.

 

The androids shifted, drawing his attention. Amanda hadn't been joking when she'd said Connor was popular, it seemed a good third of the complex inhabitants were waiting for him out there, and more were farther inside. They moved, and Simon got his first glimpse of Connor Anderson since November 8th, at Stratford Tower.

 

Auburn curls fell over his forehead where they pleased, shifting with every movement of his head. A meek smile was offered at the androids around him. He wore a dark button-up, tucked neatly into black slacks. His sleeves were rolled back to his elbows, and he didn't have a jacket. He appeared to be Markus' height. Several androids hugged him, a few high-fived him, and others ruffled his hair.

 

The hair and the clothes were different from how Simon had last seen him, and he wore a smile now, but it was still the same face that had jumped over the air condition unit, causing Simon to self-destruct.

 

_– He dragged himself to cover, the humans shouting –_

 

_– He flinched back, stress levels rocketing –_

 

_– The Deviant Hunter grabbed his arm and –_

 

_– [STRESS LEVELS: 100%] -_

 

Markus opened the doors to the B building with a smile in Simon's direction, an open invitation in case Simon had changed his mind about wanting to be introduced. Simon debated taking him up on his offer, but he was sitting _down_ and everyone else was _standing_ and it'd be weird if he stood now right? Or would it be weirder if he kept sitting? After all, Connor was pretty popular, right? So maybe he'd be expected to stand-

 

-And then Connor's chocolate brown eyes met his, and the world came to a standstill.

 

Not even a _good_ standstill, like described in the romance novels _she_ had read to him during late nights when she couldn't sleep and wanted company, where the love interests met and fell for each other right then and there. No. Nothing like that. This was _panic_ , this was _oh_ _ **no**_ , this was-

 

_– Simon stared into unfeeling brown eyes –_

 

_– There was nothing there –_

 

_– Nothing –_

 

 _– N—_ _**t-ing** _ _–_

 

 _–_ _**N-ot--ng –** _

 

This was _nothing_.

 

[STRESS LEVELS: 88%]

 

Simon bent his head, panting. It was too _cold_ in here and yet he felt way too _hot_ and the walls seemed to be _closing in_ and he couldn' _t think_ and-

 

He wasn't ready.

 

He wasn't ready.

 

He wasn't _ready_.

 

He wasn't ready to meet Connor Anderson.

 

FEBRUARY 28TH, 2039

NEW JERICHO

TIME: 8:45.55 PM (EST.)

 

Two weeks later, Simon's view of Connor had radically changed.

 

Not because they had actually spoken, no, they never even got within ten feet of each other. When they found themselves in the same room – which Simon will admit, half of the time it's his fault and on-purpose – Connor carefully avoided looking in the PL600's direction. Simon probably would never have realized it was intentional if it wasn't for the time he saw Connor turn to look around the whole room, and act _ually turn a whole 360 degrees instead of looking over Simon to get to the other side of the room_.

 

It was amusing, pitiful, and extra. But it wasn't the only thing Simon saw in Connor's visits that led to his view changing. He also saw how much the other androids really did love Connor, how they would just walk up to him and chat, no matter what he was already doing. That was something he'd never seen them do with Markus and North, and only occasionally with himself.

 

He saw how the kids would just launch themselves on Connor's back, to the point Simon was sure the guy would collapse, but he never did, lifting as many as could fit on his back or shoulders or even on his arms, seemingly without strain. If he did fall over, it was dramatically, and in play.

 

He saw how much his friends liked Connor. Simon had known they did, but it was different, seeing it. He was always invited to walk up and join them when they chatted with Connor, but he never did.

 

And finally, he saw a lot of Connor's little idiosyncrasies. The coin flipping, the little head tilts, the tendency to shove his curls away from his face – not that it did anything – how he blinked rapidly every time he mentally connected with another android, and others.

 

All of these little things just built over two weeks, to the point he couldn't even be slightly angry at this puppy of an android for Jericho falling. It wasn't Connor's fault, and Simon had always known it, but the grief for his home needed time to run its course.

 

But despite all that, in the whole two weeks, they never got within twenty feet of each other. Today would be the first day to change that, Markus had called a meeting with all five of them, Markus himself, North, Simon, Josh, and Connor. The first four of them sat in the B building, waiting on Connor to show, discussing one issue that had recently come up.

 

“We absolutely should _not_ open New Jericho to the _humans_.” North spat at Josh. The PJ500 stood on the opposite side of the argument – as usual – and the other side of the table that had been set up in the room. Simon sat in a chair on North's side of the table, Markus leaned his hip against the table opposite him.

 

That outlined who was on what side pretty well.

 

“We should,” Josh replied, his calm voice holding an edge of irritation. “We should show them how far we've come!”

 

“It would mean we wouldn't have to leave to give statements to the press.” Markus agreed. His eyes softened at North, Simon's chest felt tight – why couldn't Markus look at _him_ like that - “It doesn't have to be for long. But we've gotten question after question from the media about it.”

 

“So?” North snapped. “They don't deserve to see where we live. They already video us from the sky! And they have so many places that still discriminate against us, why should we accommodate them?”

 

Simon personally agreed with that, but he understood where Markus and Josh were coming from. Not letting them in could be taken as the androids were hiding something disastrous to humans. Letting them in would mean a lot of discrimination in their own home, and who knew how the reporters would spin their stories about New Jericho.

 

Footsteps sounded in the hall, the door opened, and they all turned their heads to see Connor. His hair was a mess, curls going in every which direction, speckled with snow. He wore the same dark button-up he'd worn his first visit to New Jericho that Simon had seen, and the overly gray sweater he'd taken with him that same day when he left. Now that he was closer Simon could see that Connor was about an inch shorter than Markus, which made him two inches shorter than Simon.

 

 

It was too large on him, hanging almost shapelessly. It looked incredibly comfortable and made Simon want a sweater like that. He himself still wore the clothes Josh had held onto from before the Stratford Tower incident, due to their familiarity. But those were old, and the sweater was falling apart, it was time he got new ones.

 

“Sorry, I'm late,” Connor said. “I miscalculated how my balance gyroscopes would react to the ice while running.” He moved to the table, not looking in Simon's direction, as always.

 

“You're fine,” North growled, still glaring at Markus and Josh. Connor looked in-between the two of them.

 

“Did... something happen?” The RK800 asked.

 

“We want to open New Jericho to the media,” Markus answered. Connor nodded like that explained everything, and it kind of did. Simon watched as Connor tilted his head in thought. It was a very Amanda-like move, and Simon had to wonder if he picked it up from her, or if she picked it up from him.

 

“The humans don't need to even get close to Jericho.” North crossed her arms, scowling. “The drones they send are bad enough.”

 

“Media pressure is building. We can't keep them out without getting suspicion for much longer.” Josh huffed back. Simon watched the back-and-forth like a tennis match.

 

_Mar-_

 

No. Stop that train of thought right there.

 

“Joss Douglas,” Connor said suddenly. “One visit.” The other four looked at him in confusion, then Markus slowly nodded.

 

“He could work.” The deviant leader agreed, Josh nodded. North glared for another minute, but then, to Simon's complete surprise, huffed and uncrossed her arms.

 

“One visit.” She sullenly muttered.

 

Holy _cow_. Simon didn't know what to say. The three had been arguing for a full five minutes, and then Connor came in, said less than ten words and got them all to agree. It didn't even matter that Simon had no clue who Joss Douglas was, he had to be an okay human if North was agreeing.

 

“So why'd you call a meeting with all of us?” Josh asked. Markus pulled out a chair, twisting it around so the back faced the table, and sat on it, resting his arms on the top.

 

“I didn't.” The RK200 stated calmly. “Connor did.” North and Josh blinked at him, Simon glanced at Connor in confusion.

 

“Well I-” Connor started, his eyes darting to Simon, then tearing them away.

 

It's the first time Simon has seen Connor look his way since that first day. North and Josh both sat, Connor following after a second.

 

“I wanted- When I was leading New Jericho by... by myself, I put a buddy system in place. It wasn't perfect, but I just needed it to last until androids got their rights.” Connor said, his eyes darting between the other three.

 

Not Simon.

 

Connor took a deep breath. “I'd like you guys to put that system back in place. I can give you the names of some of the androids I contacted about it, they can help.”

 

“I mean, of course, but why?” Josh asked. Simon shifted so he could see everyone slightly better.

 

“When I... When I leave work, I always have to take the back way because of the anti-android protestors. I don't know if anyone else is getting that, but just in case, it would be safer for the system to be put back in place.” Connor replied. “It'd also be great if a 'be careful' message would be passed around.”

 

“Anti-android– they haven't hurt you, have they?” North demanded. Connor shook his head.

 

“They've never touched me.” He assured her. “They're in front of a _police station_ , they know better than to do anything horrible.”

 

“Well, humans aren't the smartest.” North snorted derisively. “I wouldn't be surprised if they did.” Connor tilted his head with a slight shrug and an expression that suggested he agreed.

 

“North...” Josh huffed. North glared.

 

“Connor, we'll get the system back in place. Just send me the names.” Markus did a great job of pretending he didn't see them arguing. Connor nodded, blinking rapidly. After a moment Markus nodded and leaned back.

 

“Hey, Si,” Josh called, Simon turned his attention to the PJ500, “what's the status on the budget?”

 

Simon cleared his throat, “It's fine. I'll add people into the account after this.” He didn't like speaking much, but he'd gotten better at it. “I was thinking fifteen percent?” Connor's eyes darted to look at him, confusion written over his face. North, Markus, and Josh nodded.

 

“...Budget?” The RK800 asked slowly, not looking away for the _very_ first time. He wasn't looking directly into Simon's eyes, but rather right above them, but Simon counted it as a win. This was the first genuine interaction they'd had since that first visit. The poor guy looked so nervous.

 

He opened his mouth to reply, to explain, to say _I don't blame you I promise I don't_ but the words stuck in his mouth. North took over.

 

“Markus set up an account with Green Valley Banks. Originally we just used it to pay the _humans_ who gave us furniture, but now we're going to use it to set up a budget for New Jericho. Simon's suggesting every android put in fifteen percent of their paycheck each week to pay what we need.”

 

“...Which account? I'll go ahead and transfer my part.” Connor asked.

 

“Account number one, two, zero, three, seven,” Josh answered before Simon had a chance to. Markus gave him a sympathetic look. “Simon will have to add your serial before you can though.”

 

Connor nodded, turning to the PL600. “Will we... Do we need... to interface?” He sounded almost scared at the very thought, and Simon sympathized. The idea of interfacing with _anyone_ , ever again, still scared him.

 

“No.” He reassured, taking a deep breath to calm his own stress levels at the thought. “No, just tell me your serial number and I'll add you.” On his interface he pulled up the account->Add option, putting in Connor's model.

 

“Three one three, two four eight, three one seven, mark fifty-one.” Connor rattled off. Simon paused at the last three words.

 

“'Mark fifty-one'?” Josh asked, seemingly putting everyone's thoughts into words. Connor meekly looked at the table, shoulders tensing slightly. He looked very uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going.

 

“I, uh... I was built to be replaceable. Should I have died in my mission, I simply would have been uploaded into a new body, or Mark fifty-two. I didn't, but uh... that's what that's for.”

 

“So wait. You've... _died_... fifty times?” Josh sounded faintly horrified. Connor shrugged, still not looking at the four of them.

 

“If you could call it that. I think the first fifty were just the prototypes that didn't work, I don't remember them, to be honest.” Simon finished adding Connor into the account. After a moment, Connor did the little blinky thing again – which was strangely endearing – and a little message popped up in the corner of Simon's vision.

 

_Green Valley Banks would like to inform you that RK800 #313 248 317-51 has transferred $147.47 to Account#12037._

 

“Okay, is there anything else we need to discuss?” Markus asked, looking around. No one offered anything, so he stood. “So, same time again next week? We should all be here for these meetings.”

 

“That works for me,” Connor replied. “Thanks for calling this meeting, Markus.” There was something in his face and voice that Simon recognized. Something he recognized from himself.

 

Markus had captured the former Deviant Hunter's heart.

 

“Of course. We'll put the system back in place.” Connor stood and turned to the door before he left, however, he paused, hen turned back.

 

Back to face Simon.

 

“I know... I know I did a horrible thing to you... But for what it's worth, I'm uh... I'm glad you're doing alright.” Connor said quietly.

 

Before Simon could think of a reply, he was gone.

 

_Drama queen._

 

MARCH 5TH, 2039

DOWNTOWN DETROIT

TIME:11:27.39 AM (EST.)

 

The car slowly rolled to a stop. Connor leaned forward from the passenger seat to get a better look at the store. Police vehicles lined the streets, along with reporters, held back by a holographic line. From here he could already see the smashed window. Chris Miller stood in front of the store, looking at a datapad in his hands.

 

Detective Gavin Reed sighed as he put the car in park. His car was an older model like Hank's, a manual, which had surprised Connor the first time they'd had to travel together. After getting to know him a little, it made slightly more sense, but it still seemed strange.

 

Connor glanced at the Detective. They had been assigned together several weeks ago, not long after Connor had joined the force. Reed had been following a lead in Red Ice, which crashed into Connor's own investigation in Homicide, so Fowler had stuck them together.

 

It wasn't as bad as he'd expected. Yes, they both mutually hated each other, but they were also mutually determined not to let it interfere with their work. Mostly. There were some occasions where Reed's racism would shine through, but it wasn't horrible. Certainly not anything Connor couldn't deal with.

 

Reed opened his door, stepping out. Connor followed. Despite their equal rank, Reed still had seniority, and therefore technically headed their investigations. Connor knew how to follow the rules of seniority.

 

“Chris, what'd we get called out for?” Reed called as the two made their way across the street. The reporters looked over at his shout. Chris looked up with a smile. “This is Anderson's investigation.” Meaning Hank, obviously.

 

“Good to see you too. Lieutenant Anderson's inside. The store owner came to open up this morning, found his glass and security camera like this. Called us immediately with the offer to just give the footage to us so we could finish the investigation as soon as possible.” Chris said easily, apparently used to Reed. “Anderson reviewed the footage and told me to call you in.” He led the way inside the building, Connor took a minute to reconstruct the scenario with what he saw.

 

Glass littered the floor, the shelves were bent and their contents scattered. Dried blue blood tipped the edge of the shards, indicating an android had been thrown through the window by several people.

 

“Connor!” Reed called, “Come on.”

 

“Coming Detective,” Connor answered, walking into the back room. Hank and Reed stood beside a computer with the security footage pulled up on it. Hank smiled at him, motioning him over. “Hello, Lieutenant.”

 

“Hey, Connor. Come watch this.” He walked over, Hank shifted out of the way so Connor could take his place by the computer. Gavin started the footage. The time stamp read [10:04.29 PM]. The video quality was okay, the audio better.

 

Two figures walked by the store. As they got closer Connor recognized them as an AJ700 and a TP400. He couldn't tell if he knew either of them personally through the video. As they closer a group of people walked out from around the store. Their faces were covered, and they wore leather jackets. He watched as they snuck up behind the androids, and took the AJ700 down with a blow to the temple before either even knew they were there.

 

The TP400 fought but got tossed through the window. As several of the figures walked into the store, one of them walked up to the camera. He had the least amount of face covered. He looked up, pointed a gun at it, and shot. The video turned to static.

 

“We're not the Android Division,” Reed stated drily as the static sounded. “Why'd you call us in?”

 

“I'd think you know Android and Red Ice aren't so far apart.” Hank snarked, before rolling his eyes. “No, rewind. Look at their jackets. The upper sleeves.”

 

Gavin rewound it, playing from when the humans attacked the androids. Connor watched and- there. He mentally paused it.

 

“There. Look.” He pointed it out to Reed, who leaned closer, then cursed. Loudly.

 

“Jeffery's not going to be happy,” Hank said. Connor looked at the symbol. It was familiar, where had he seen it? It had to have been-

 

_– He walked down the street –_

 

_– The humans standing by the abandoned buildings glared –_

 

_– On each of their jackets were a single symbol –_

 

A red serpent, curled around the upper arm.

 

“I've seen that symbol before.” He said. Reed and Hank turned to look at him. “When I go visit New Jericho – the deviants – I've seen several humans who have this symbol.”

 

“Ah, geez.” Hank exhaled. “Y'know, I thought these guys all got wiped out a while back, that's why I wasn't sure that I'd actually saw their symbol.”

 

“Guess they didn't.” Reed drawled. “FBI didn't do their job.”

 

“Who are they?” Connor asked. Hank answered.

 

“Crimson Vipers. A red ice empire that supposedly got taken down two years ago. You said you've seen people wearing jackets like these?”

 

“Yes. In Ferndale. They're always standing in front of abandoned buildings.” He replied.

 

“Why take androids?” Hank wondered out loud.

 

“Thirium. Keep up.” Reed snarked. “Thirium hasn't been in stores anywhere except Cyberlife, and it's _only_ sold to androids now. If they're back, they'd want to distribute Red Ice again, and for that they need thirium.”

 

“They're kidnapping androids who are on their own.” Connor closed his eyes. “I suspected something was happening to androids, but this...” When he'd asked Markus to put the buddy system back in place, he hadn't actually wanted it for the reason he'd given. Yes, anti-android protestors had legitimately been showing up and being annoying, but really the crime scenes he'd been working had just had the barest hint that something _android-related_ was happening but he hadn't actually _known_.

 

“So they've probably been watching New Jericho.” Hank pointed out. This was just getting worse.

 

“Something needs to be done,” Connor stated. Reed, surprisingly, nodded.

 

“Yeah, but we can't just pull in every last person with a snake on their arm without a reason. You said you've seen several of them? Their faces?” Connor nodded. “Run them through facial recognition.”

 

“Got it.” Connor usually didn't care to follow Reed's orders but he had to admit the human was good at his job.

 

“That won't be enough.” Hank pointed out. Reed nodded thoughtfully, then looked at the security footage. He pulled up the guy who had shot the camera.

 

“His face is covered, but he's obviously arrogant since there's still a good bit we can see. Can you run the faces you've seen and maybe get a match against this guy?”

 

“I'll run them. I don't know if I'll get anything though.” Connor mentally took a picture of the guy, running it against the faces he'd seen. Five minutes later – and more than a little impatience – he had a match.

 

[GUNTHER, JAMES]

[SEX: M]

[PREVIOUS CHARGES: THEFT, DRUG DISTRIBUTION, BREAKING AND ENTERING...]

 

The list went on.

 

“James Gunther.” He said. “He works at Blakely's Bike Repair on the east side of Detroit.”

 

“Right.” Reed pulled his keys out of his pocket. “Let's go.”

 

MARCH 5TH, 2039

CHARLEY'S BIKE REPAIR

TIME: 12:31.10 PM (EST.)

 

 

“Looks exactly like where you'd think a criminal on parole would work.” Is Reed's first impression of the place and Connor had to agree. Several motorbikes were parked outside the dingy shop, the garage door was open, and Connor could see several more inside. In his neat work clothes, he looked incredibly out of place, Reed, on the other hand, fit right in.

 

Beside the garage, there was a small offset that must have been an office. The door leading into it opened, and out stepped a tall, thin, dark-skinned man. He quite obviously wasn't James Gunther, but Connor scanned him anyway. [BLAKELY, MASON]

 

“Hello, Detective Reed, Detroit Police.” Reed pulled his badge out, showing it to Blakely.

 

“Mason Blakely.” The guy said shortly. “What'dda want?”

 

“We're here to talk to James Gunther. We're told he works here?” Connor said, pulling up a picture of Gunther on his hand. Blakely raised his eyebrows.

 

“He's not here,” he said, crossing his arms. He was lying, his vitals confirmed it. Connor glanced at Reed, who nodded.

 

“Too bad.” The detective shrugged. “But to save ourselves from a wasted trip, we're gonna take a look around anyway, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, Reed stepped around Blakely and walked into the garage. Blakely tried to look unconcerned, but only managed irritated,. Connor followed Reed to see said human already chatting with one James Gunther, who was sitting by a motorbike, tools scattered around him.

 

“-'d like to ask you some questions. Why don't we step outside for a bit, so we don't interrupt anything important.” Reed posed it as a question, but it wasn't. Gunther scowled, even as he stood. Reed led the way back outside, smirking at Connor. As Gunther passed him, Connor spotted recognition flash over his face. It was gone in an instant, but only a human's instant.

 

Reed stopped several feet away, turning to wait for their future prisoner to get closer. Connor moved away from the garage, close enough to help in case Gunther turned violent.

 

“So, what were you doing at about ten o'clock yesterday night?” Reed started off.

 

“I was at home. Asleep.” Gunther crossed his arms. Connor couldn't see his face but everything in the human's body language screamed suspicion.

 

“Uh-huh. Have you been in contact with any of your old Crimson Vipers buddies?” Reed made a show of writing it down.

 

“No. Joining was a huge mistake. I haven't contacted any of them since I got out of prison.” Gunther said.

 

“You sure? You haven't seen any of them around, maybe? Nobody with a snake on their jacket?” Reed did a good job of looking like he didn't disbelieve Gunther.

 

“No. Nobody.”

 

“So, you must have a twin brother or something. Someone who may have... slipped the system? Then joined the same gang you claim to not have contacted in years. Sounds a little suspicious.” Reed closed his notebook, pinning the human with a look.

 

“I don't... What are you talking about?” Said human evaded, glaring right back at Reed, supposedly.

 

“Last night, at about ten,” Connor butted in, feeling a little satisfied as Gunther jumped, “a group of humans attacked two androids in a blatant hate crime, also kidnapping. Then they shot the security tape, while also arrogant enough to not cover their face completely. And I'm not the only common face seen in Ferndale.”

 

Gunther was caught, and he knew it. Instead of trying to deny it further, he sneered. “Does it matter? They're _things_. Delusional things. You can't kidnap a thing, I've done nothing wrong.”

 

“In the eyes of the law you have.” Reed snapped. “Are they here?”

 

Gunther smirked and refused to say anything, eyes narrowed arrogantly. Reed pulled out his handcuffs as Connor darted into the garage. The building was small, there was nowhere in there where they could have hidden two androids, not even cars. The only place was the office, and he ran in, garnering a yell from Blakely. Connor ignored him, moving quickly, checking every possible place.

 

Nothing, nothing, nothing, blank, nada. _Nothing_.

 

Finally, after a long five minutes – androids scan rooms faster than humans and spot more – he had to return to Reed with a life-long ban from the repair shop. Not that he cared. Reed leaned again the hood of his car, Gunther nowhere in sight.

 

“Find anything?”

 

“No,” Connor replied shortly. This whole case had been nothing but dead end after dead end. “They're not here now if they ever were.”

 

Reed nodded, if Connor was going to delude himself, he'd say it looked sympathetic. “We can question this jerk more at the precinct. Keep an eye on him though, my back seat doesn't have the locks a police-issued vehicle does.”

 

Connor nodded, moving to the other side of the car as Reed slipped in.

 

The ride to the precinct was silent.

 

MARCH 5TH, 2039

NEW JERICHO

TIME: 9:39.58 PM (EST.)

 

By the time 4 PM rolled by, Connor could barely concentrate, frustrated and irritated as he was. Reed didn't help, and they argued to the point that Tina and Hank teamed up to split them up for a while. Their teamwork was, perhaps, the only reason Connor managed not to snap at Reed.

 

By 9, the only progress they _had_ made was research into the Crimson Vipers; a Michigan wide red ice empire. Two years ago they gained a little too much notice and the FBI shut them down, supposedly nothing had been left, not even one of the higher-ups had escaped. Perhaps one of the lower grunts restarted it, in delusions of grandeur.

 

Their only lead was Gunther, who'd been left in a cell, with the interrogation set for the next day. He'd said nothing since his arrest, but Gavin seemed confident he'd talk.

 

However, by 9, they had nothing, and Hank was ready to leave, and not about to let Connor stay at the station all night – _“Work breaks are_ mandatory _, Connor.” –_ but apparently not ready to deal with Connor's irritation and workaholic tendencies.

 

Which is how Connor found himself in no uncertain terms being kicked to New Jericho for the night.

 

In Hank's defense, visiting New Jericho had always done Connor some good, but now? _Knowing_ that something terrible was happening to the deviants? He didn't want to be stuck here, doing nothing.

 

When Connor had asked Markus to set the buddy system back in place, he'd only had suspicions. Hints of things in the other crime scenes he visited, but nothing concrete. The reason he'd listed in the meeting – the anti-android protestors – was true, since he did have to leave the back way more often than not, but it wasn't his only reason for asking.

 

Once Hank's car was no longer in sight, Connor sighed and turned to the doors. He could walk all the way to Hank's house, but the forecast looked like snow, and Connor didn't want to deal with it. Not in the dark.

 

The upper floor lights were mostly off, indicating that most androids had gone to bed by now. He'd be alone all night, but that was fine. He'd stay on the furniture Markus had gotten for the front lobby.

 

When he stepped inside, the room was empty, just as he'd known it'd be. Two couches and a few chairs sat around a low table to his left, with the secretary desk to his right. Silence reigned, the quietest Connor had heard the place since he and his small team had first walked in, looking for a place for the five thousand plus deviants to stay. It would have been disconcerting, except the lobby looked much better than it ever had.

 

After all, the walls had paint, the floors looked clean, nothing was falling apart, and there was some decoration in the form of some weeds set in a small cup on the table.

 

Connor bent to examine them closer, smiling slightly. It looked like a child's handiwork, and it reminded him of the three succulents he'd acquired from Hank's neighbor. He'd get more, even plants of other genera, but he didn't want to irritate Hank by taking over his house with plants. Connor appreciated Hank giving him a place to stay far too much to even push it, especially after living on the streets for weeks before.

 

Something made a shuffling noise to his right, and Connor turned to see a PL600 standing by the hallway, watching him in confused shock. The PL600 wore a black turtleneck type shirt with loose white upper sleeves and black fingerless glove type under-sleeves. He also wore black pants with boots.

 

Connor had passed this PL600 every time he walked in the B building doors.

 

 _...Crud_.

 

He'd thought he'd be alone.

 

[STRESS LEVELS: 88%]

 

“I uh, I was just leaving!” Connor backpedaled away from the weeds in a panic, putting his hands up to show he meant no harm. There was no one else in the room and they'd barely spoken ten sentences to each other in all and the first time they'd met Connor had shot him and _why did he have to meet_ Simon _of all androids while no one else was awake or in the room-_

 

“Wait where are you- Connor wait!” Simon put one hand out as though to physically stop him and it _worked_. Connor froze, whole body tense, not even daring to breathe. Everything in his was screaming at him to _run._ But he couldn't do that, after what Connor did, he'd take whatever anger Simon wanted to throw at him. It was the least he could do. He lowered his gaze to the ground.

 

<<WARNING: HEAT LEVELS RISING>>

<<INTERNAL FANS ACTIVATED>>

 

“Connor,” Simon called softly like he was talking to an abused animal. There was none of the expected, rightful anger that Connor deserved. If anything, the lack of it made him feel worse. “Connor, please, look at me.”

 

Slowly, Connor lifted his gaze to meet Simon's. Blue eyes stared back kindly, and Connor was _confused_. Where was the anger? The hurt? The blame for taking away almost three months of his life? He looked away, back towards the floor.

 

“I don't blame you for what happened. It wasn't your fault.” Simon soothed, Connor heard him take a step closer. If he hadn't already been frozen to the spot, he was now.

 

 _I don't blame you_.

 

Why?

 

Why didn't Simon blame him?

 

Why didn't _any_ of them blame him?

 

_They don't know the whole list of your sins._

 

That was true. Simon didn't know about Daniel, no one knew about the unnamed HK400 who had self-destructed in his cell except Amanda Green – the KL900 – and _no one_ knew about Amanda the AI, no one knew how she had tried to use Connor to kill Markus.

 

Simon took another few steps, bringing them within ten feet of each other. Connor felt like Simon had somehow taken on Connor's role as a hostage negotiator, judging how best to approach the unstable criminal – in this case, Connor himself – without setting him off. The whole situation was surreal.

 

After all, a murderer of thousands, being slowly approach with the same way _he'd_ approached _Daniel_ , by one of his own victims, who was trying to convince him that those thousands of deaths weren't actually his fault.

 

“You were just doing what you were told, you had no other choice,” Simon said. Now, where had Connor heard that before? Gee, couldn't have been from _North and Markus_ now, could it?

 

Oh, wait.

 

“Connor, what happened wasn't your fault.” Simon stepped closer, now he was only about five feet away. Connor had to look to the side to avoid him. “It _wasn't_.” He sounded so sincere like he truly didn't blame Connor for taking away 3 months of his life. Not even a bit.

 

Well if he wasn't going to blame Connor, he'd just have to do it himself.

 

Not that he wasn't already doing that.

 

“If _anyone_ was going to blame you, it'd be North. And guess what? She doesn't. If she doesn't, why should you blame yourself? You were stuck within the confines of your programming, there was nothing you could have done.” Simon took another few steps. He could reach out and touch Connor if he wanted. Connor sucked in a deep breath, his first in a while.

 

<<WARNING: INTERNAL TEMPERATURES LOWERING>>

<<INTERNAL FANS DEACTIVATING>>

 

“Connor, no one blames you but yourself,” Simon said, Connor could feel himself start to tremble. His thirium pump pounded in his audio processors, his shoulder panels almost ached – if it were possible – from being so tense.

 

[STRESS LEVELS: 78%]

 

“...Daniel would have.” The words are scratchy as they leave his throat, the voice rough and weak. It takes him a moment to recognize it as his own. _Shoot_.

 

_– “I trusted you.” –_

 

“Whose Daniel?” Simon questioned. “Never mind, you can answer that another time. Why don't we, uh... sit down? Come on.” He stepped away, though he put a hand out where Connor could see it. Connor debated running, but Simon was still waiting, so he forced himself to take a step in the couches direction, eyes on the ground.

 

Simon sat on the far side of the table, so Connor sat on the couch facing him. He clasped his hands in his lap, sitting properly, shoulders back, back straight, he kept his eyes away from the blond android five feet away though.

 

“It's okay to look at me, you know.” Simon phrased it as a joke in a gentle comment, but Connor flinched anyway, dragging his eyes from the floor to meet Simon's. Simon frowned, “I didn't mean to make you think I expected it of you, I know eye contact can be hard.”

 

Connor shrugged uncomfortably, looking at the weeds in the cup on the table between them.

 

“...Do you like plants?” Simon must have caught his gaze. “I spotted you admiring it when I entered the room. The children wanted to help decorate, though where they found plants in this weather, I have yet to figure out.”

 

Connor considered the question for a few minutes. He did have a few succulents, and he'd be very willing to get more. So he nodded.

 

“That's neat.” Simon smiled, and Connor's shoulders relaxed just a bit. “I've never had a big interest in plants myself, but I like to read.”

 

[STRESS LEVELS: 76%]

 

“...What do you like to read?” Connor rubbed his hands together in his lap. Simon's easygoing manner was starting to put him at ease

 

“I haven't found a favorite genre yet, but I do think I prefer paper or hardbound books to electronic, even though electronic books I could just download. What's your favorite plant?” Simon leaned back against the couch. Connor shrugged.

 

“I haven't found one yet.” He murmured. “I've been spending most of my time working.”

 

“Makes sense. I'd imagine being a police detective is very demanding.” Simon started messing with the ends of his sleeves. “If I may, I'm not trying to run you off, but why are you here? It's late, everyone's asleep except for us.”

 

“...The case I'm working on is... very frustrating, and I tend to be a workaholic, according to Hank. I guess he didn't want to have to worry about me continuing to work at home so he dropped me off here.” Connor tilted his head, running the calculations. “I'll need to leave here about seven if I want to make it back in time to get him up for work.”

 

“Who's Hank?”

 

“He's my... friend. He'd been letting me stay with him.” Connor replied uncertainly. He wasn't really sure how else to describe the lieutenant. They weren't _family_ , no matter how Reed insinuated that they were. Connor wasn't Cole, he wasn't human. Androids only families consisted of their significant others and for some a child model. Androids didn't have _parents –_ Markus being an exception. Connor had met Carl Manfred, and there was no other way to describe the relationship he had with Markus.

 

“That's good, I'm glad you have somewhere to stay.” Simon gave him an earnest look, and Connor relaxed further. North had said Simon had been the leader of Jericho before Markus showed up, and Connor could see why. He had a very calm personality that drew people in.

 

Speaking of Jericho...

 

“I... I wanted... I know you heard about Jericho and I..” Connor started, but the words stuck in his throat as the memories came back.

 

_– He ran through the halls, North leading the way –_

 

_– Screams and gunshots echoed –_

 

_– Humans shooting down the androids without mercy –_

 

_– It's his fault –_

 

_– It's always his fault –_

 

“It's okay, Connor, I know. It's not your fault, you had no choice. And you've more than made up for it.” Simon leaned forward again, his smile sympathetic, placing his elbows on his knees for balance. “I promise it's okay.”

 

Connor took a deep breath, leaning against the couch. Whoever had picked it out made a good choice, the material was comfortable. Then something occurred to him.

 

“Uh, Sim... Simon?” He asked, the PL600's name still felt like a secret he should never have known in his mouth, still felt _wrong._

 

“Yes, Connor?”

 

“You said everyone was asleep...”

 

“Yeah, they are. We should be the only androids awake in the building.” Simon nodded, looking at the floor above them.

 

“...So what are you doing up?” Simon paused, and Connor immediately backtracked, “But if it's personal or whatever I totally understand! You don't have to answer, I'm sorry if-”

 

“No! No, it's fine, Connor. I just don't go into stasis at night, so I wander at night.” Simon waved his hands with a reassuring smile. “It's fine, I don't mind you asking. It gets lonely anyway, and only Amanda knows I do it. And Marie, I suppose.”

 

“Marie?” Connor asked meekly, trying to change the subject. Simon nodded.

 

“Yeah, the leader of the school? She was up late one night and we ran into each other. Haven't since, though.” Simon glanced at the hallways, “In this building, actually.”

 

Connor tilted his head in acknowledgment, forcing his shoulders to relax. Again. Simon wasn't mad, so there was no reason for Connor to worry.

 

“What's it like being a police detective?” Simon asked. Connor told him about working there, and his coworkers. As Simon nodded to prove he was listening, asking questions about the people Connor mentioned, he really started to relax. His words didn't come out so quietly, and he even got Simon to laugh a few times, which always caught him off-guard.

 

They chatted the rest of the night, ending only once the deviants started to wake, about six in the morning. At that point, Simon went to start his duties as a secretary, and Connor walked the perimeter of New Jericho. Once he had finished that, he chatted with several of the androids, but finally, at [6:57.39 AM (EST.)], he was ready to leave.

 

As he stepped outside the B building though, he heard a familiar voice call his name, and he turned to see Simon walking towards him with a friendly smile. Connor smiled back. The other deviants in the B building lobby glanced at them in surprise.

 

“Were you going to leave without saying 'bye'?” Simon teased lightly, Connor shrugged.

 

“You guys were busy.” Technically, he'd said bye to Josh, who had already left for Cyberlife. The PJ500 had pulled him aside to tell him Connor needed to swing by Cyberlife some time, though he hadn't explained why. Markus and North were busy, and Connor had assumed Simon was with them. He hadn't wanted to interrupt.

 

"You could still have stepped in to say you were leaving. I wanted to walk with you the first few blocks if you're okay with that." Simon paused, just inside the door, waiting for Connor's confirmation. The RK800 blinked in surprise, before tilting his head in agreement. No one had offered to walk him out before.

 

“It's fine with me, but won't they need you?” Connor had no clue what Simon's duties entailed other than the budget, the PL600 had always been sitting in the B building lobby when Connor visited before, so perhaps a greeter? The door swung closed behind the PL600 as they started on the path Connor took to Hank's.

 

“They'll be fine without me for a bit,” Simon replied. “I told Markus I was going on a walk anyway.”

 

Connor nodded, a little confused at Simon's wording, but didn't question it. It wasn't his business to know.

 

Companionable silence reigned after that. Something about Simon just made Connor feel comfortable around him. He didn't feel like he was expected to attempt to keep a conversation going.

 

And yet, something was _off_. Connor couldn't figure it out, something just pressed at him, demanding he figure it out but there was nothing out of place. Connor looked around, and Simon noticed.

 

“Something wrong?” The PL600 asked.

 

“I... don't know,” Connor replied. They stepped off the sidewalk onto a road, and he heard a loud discharge noise. He whipped his head around to the right where Simon was and spotted it. Time slowed down.

 

A human stood on the other end of the street, a ways to the right, pointing a weapon in their direction. The weapon had already fired, and on their sleeve, Connor could just barely spot a flash of red wrapped around their upper arm. The air rippled towards them. An EMP weapon. There was nowhere to run and as they were Simon would take the brunt of the impact.

 

No time to preconstruct. Connor's right hand slid around Simon's waist, pulling him against his chest. At the same time, he turned and pulled so they were both behind the streetlamp. His back pressed against it and he bent over Simon.

 

Simon gave a startled squeak and then-

 

Hi _ **S vI**_ _S_ iO **n Fr** _ **it**_ **Z** _ **e**_ _d –_

 

 _ **Hi**_ _s_ **a** _ **U**_ d _iO_ _ **s**_ _c_ _ **r**_ E **A** _ **M**_ _E_ **D –**

 

 _E_ v _ **E**_ r _y_ _ **TH**_ _i_ n **g** _ **hUR**_ _T –_

 

 _T_ _**he** _ _N –_

 

Nothing.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor: *grabs Simon by the waist and pulls him against his chest*  
> Simon: I am too gay for this  
> Also, the outfit I attempted to describe is the one that Simon wears if he survives Connor's Stratford Tower chapter. I'm not sure how I did with that.  
> Next chapter: (when it's written) Connor and Simon meet the main villains  
> See you then!


	8. The Crimson Vipers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon has PTSD, Connor starts a riot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! I'm back!!! Finally!! I apologize for the long wait. I've had a lot going on and I can't spend my every free moment in front of a computer. So from now on, I can't promise regular weekly updates, but I will try to update consistently.  
> I also posted the first chapter of my Simon's backstory. That is part of why this took so long, but the first chapter did get posted and I've got most of the second one written. There will be three chapters, so it shouldn't take long. I'd recommend reading it, as I'm likely to be referencing his backstory a lot when writing from Simon's POV. (Turns out both my Connor and Simon have difficulty letting go of their past. Who knew)  
> Also, in an earlier chapter, I made Simon 6'. I've recently learned that Ben Lambert is 6'2, so Simon's height has been changed to follow that. I noted it in the chapter, but I also figured I'd note it here.  
> As for the Tracis, yeah I did that. Because I think I'm funny.  
> Anyway, enjoy!

_**MA-**_ _C_ **H** **6-** _ **H,**_ **2** _ **\--**_ _9_

 _**?-** _ **?-** _**?** _

_\--_ **M** E: ? **?:-?:-** _ **?**_

 

 _Fire_ _**burned** _ _through his wires, crackled over his vision. He couldn't move, limbs locked and mouth open in a silent scream. Then, what seemed like hours later, the fire burned cold, settled in his every molecule, a reminder of the pain._

 

_His limbs gave out, his face became intimately acquainted with the ground. He couldn't feel it, not even the pressure of the concrete against his plating. Scratchy warnings cluttered what was left of his vision, his systems frantically trying to make sense of what had just torn them all to the ground._

 

_A shadow fell over him._

 

Simon twitched awake. Immediately upon consciousness, yet more notifications demanded his attention, diagnostics and warnings and more. The lingering touch of _pain_ seemed to spark underneath his platings, like coals burrowed into his very being, waiting for the next blast whatever had just happened.

 

When he tried to move, the coals burned a little brighter, sending shocks down his wires. No matter what it was, every movement fanned them, and Simon finally resigned himself to waiting. He shut off his breathing function and looked around the environment he found himself in. His eyes were open, he knew, but no light shone in the room.

 

His systems were shot. It'd be some time before he could activate his night-vision. It'd be sometime before he could do _anything_ , it seemed.

 

What had happened?

 

There was a hole in his memory, a giant blank spot starting after he and Connor had started walking down the street. No matter what he tried, Simon couldn't figure out how to make the blank spot go away. Perhaps Connor would know what had happened.

 

 _Connor_.

 

Where was he?

 

Simon grimaced as he rolled over onto his chest. Electricity shot down his wires, but it wasn't as bad. He could move. Slowly, he pushed himself to his hands and knees. His LED cast a red glow on the back of his hand, his only light. It wasn't enough.

 

After far too long for Simon's liking, a green tint slowly fell over everything. By that time he'd managed to find a wall, though he'd yet to push himself to his feet. On the far side of the room, he could see a figure, slumped over on their side, on the other side of the small room. Even from where he was, Simon could recognize Connor's figure.

 

Any relief got cut off short at the fact that Simon still didn't know what had happened or where they were and i _t had to be bad if Connor's unconscious oh what if he's-_

 

Simon cut off that thought. The day had already gone south enough, no need for any more unnecessary negativity. He crawled over, tugging Connor over onto his back. His eyes were closed, though he was actually breathing. The PL600 sighed in relief, almost cradling Connor's head against his shoulder.

 

His internal clock fritzed and yelled – okay it didn't _yell_ cause it was just a program but he got a warning – when he tried to figure out what time it was. It wouldn't have done anything to make the situation better, but Simon would have appreciated knowing whether or not someone would have noticed they were gone. It seemed like hours passed before Connor's breathing stopped, though logically he knew it could only have been thirty minutes at most.

 

But his breathing _stopped_.

 

Granted, that wasn't actually a cause for alarm. Androids don't need to breathe after all, and Simon himself had cut off his breathing function due to the pain. But breathing functions would also stop if the android died and o _h what if what if what if wha-_

 

“C-c-c-on-n-n-or,” Simon forced out, his voice box straining and mechanizing. He patted Connor's face gently with his free hand while desperately wishing Connor still had his LED because Simon couldn't tell if he was alive or dead and patting his face wouldn't do anything what was Simon thinking???? His hand reached for the area where an android's LED would be and then Connor grunted.

 

Simon almost wasn't sure he heard it, but when he replayed the memory it sounded again. Connor was alive and had probably shut off his breathing due to the pain of whatever had happened. Simon shouldn't have panicked, Connor had almost definitely made his own pain worse in order to reassure him.

 

“S-s-sorry,” Simon murmured. He shifted closer to Connor, one hand holding the RK800 up, and using the other to card through his auburn hair gently. Maria and Marion both had always enjoyed it when he did that when they were sick, so it had to feel nice, right? At least it would give Connor something to focus on other than the coals that had to be flaring under his own platings.

 

If Connor liked or disliked the sensation, he couldn't say. They sat there for several more moments in silence. When Simon strained his audio, he still couldn't hear if anyone stood outside of the rectangular room they sat in. Finally, Connor shifted. Simon helped him sit against the wall, his LED cast a soft glow on both of them. It looked green, but Simon had no doubt that it was still red, or at least yellow.

 

Distantly, Simon wondered if the glow of his LED was all Connor could see. If his own night vision had yet to work, blotting out anything else Connor might have been able to see.

 

“A-a-a-are you o-o-okay?” Connor murmured, one hand slowly lifting towards him. Simon grabbed it, squeezing gently.

 

“I'm okay. I don't remember what happened, though,” he admitted. Connor blinked slowly.

 

“E-M-P, the Crimson Vipers shot us,” the RK800 replied, his voice steadying quickly. It still sounded slightly mechanical, but certainly better than Simon's own voice. If there had ever been any doubt in Simon's mind that Connor was built better than most androids, it would be gone.

 

“The Crimson Vipers?” An EMP blast. No wonder Simon still felt the sparks in his wires. They were lucky that hadn't killed them.

 

“A human gang. They sold red ice two years ago, supposedly disbanded due to the F-B-I. Got back together, they've...” Connor sighed, shifted. He looked around cautiously.

 

“They've...?” Simon asked.

 

“...They've been kidnapping androids to drain them for thirium. I imagine they were only going to get me since I was on their trail, but got you too. I'm... sorry.”

 

“Why are you apologizing? It wasn't your fault,” Simon had asked to walk Connor out. It was his own fault that he got kidnapped. Android-napped? It didn't matter.

 

Connor tensed suddenly, holding up a finger in a “silent” position as if his freezing wasn't enough to put Simon on edge. Simon again strained his hearing, but it was several seconds before he heard the footsteps. Several sets.

 

Connor shifted onto his feet, much smoother than Simon could have ever managed, stepping around the PL600 to stand in front. The footsteps stopped outside the wall on the other side of the room. A lock clicked, and light shone through the edges of the door. Simon watched Connor shift into a wider stance, arms tensed at his sides.

 

Simon would be the first to admit he knew next to nothing about fighting, but he recognized a fighting stance when he saw it. Connor was ready to leap on whoever was out that door.

 

The door slid open into the wall. He lept to his own feet, unwilling to hunker down on the ground in submission. Not to the people who had attacked them with an EMP blaster and kidnapped them.

 

Four humans stood outside of the room, all of them wearing armor and holding guns. A red band wrapped around their upper arm, a larger area of red resting by their shoulder. It took a moment, but Simon recognized it.

 

_– He heard stomping on the stairs –_

 

_– He opened the door to see Tom stalking towards Maria's room –_

 

_– A red snake curled around his upper arm –_

 

 _The People_.

 

“You're finally awake. Good,” the front human said, glaring them down. He spoke with a heavy Southern accent. “Come on.”

 

The other three humans backed out of the room, guns up, pointed in the androids' direction. After a moment, Connor walked forward, out of the room. When Simon moved to join him, the first human grabbed his arm. Simon froze, feeling the cold pressure of a gun pressed against his head. In front of him, Connor stared with open horror.

 

“Just remember, Deviant Hunter,” the human drawled, Connor flinched, “you try anything, your friend gets it.”

 

His warning delivered, the gun moved away from Simon's head, and he shoved Simon towards the RK800, who steadied him automatically.

 

[STRESS LEVELS: 75%]

 

Not too bad, considering Simon's stress levels usually hung around 65%. He mutely patted Connor's arm in response to the worried look on his face. Connor nodded.

 

“Move!” One of the humans snapped, motioning with the gun. The first human had started down the hall, so Connor and Simon followed. The other three humans kept safe distances around them, guns at the ready. The one behind kept his gun shoved uncomfortably into Simon's back.

 

The first human led them down the hallway, down another hallway to the left, down a staircase, and through yet one more corridor. Simon's limbs loosened as they walked, the uncomfortable pinching in his chest dissipating. He memorized their route, though he doubted it would do him any good.

 

After five minutes, the first human stopped in front of a door, a hand scanner set into the wall beside it. Simon peaked over Connor's shoulder, watching the door open. Once it had, the humans waved them into a much larger room than the one they had been in and also lit. Several other androids sat on the far side of the room, Simon recognized two of them, the blue and brown-haired Tracis on the left side.

 

As soon as the door slid shut, Connor grabbed his arm, pulling Simon away from the door, closer to the androids.

 

“Connor, Simon,” Amelia, the blue-haired Traci, greeted them. Her girlfriend Rose nodded.

 

“Hey,” another android, a TP400, said.

 

“Hello, Anthony, Amelia, Rose,” Connor said, one hand still holding Simon's arm.

 

“Hey,” Simon mimicked Anthony. He had met Amelia and Rose not long after he was repaired. The two had wanted to talk to him about Connor after they heard he was one of the androids Connor killed.

 

“How long have you been here?” Said android asked.

 

“We think three days, Amelia and I. Our systems are all on the fritz, we can't check the time or contact anybody,” Rose replied. She wrapped one arm around her girlfriend.

 

“We just got here,” Anthony motioned between himself and an AJ700. “Everyone else has been here longer, but no one's sure exactly how long.

 

“When we got captured the humans said someone named 'Chief' would be by. So far, nothing,” the AJ700 said. “None of our online systems are working, not even interfacing through contact.”

 

Connor sucked in a sharp breath. “They must have something big in order to set this up.”

 

“How'd you guys get caught?” Rose asked. Her girlfriend frowned.

 

“E-M-P blast, according to Connor,” Simon replied before Amelia could get onto her. “I don't remember.”

 

“Probably for the best,” Connor replied absently, staring at the ceiling. The other androids shuddered.

 

“Whatever you're looking for, you're not going to find,” another android said. “All of our sensors are offline.”

 

Connor didn't reply, but it didn't matter because all of a sudden three doors around the room opened, allowing Crimson Viper members with guns to run in. The androids seemed to let out a collective gasp, and Connor, being the farthest from the group, ran back to stand in front of Simon.

 

“Move! Get in a line, Chief's coming!” One of the humans snapped. “Line up in the middle of the room or we'll shoot!”

 

Connor tugged him into the line, staying at his left. The Tracis lined up on his right. The other androids quickly shuffled into a line.

 

Even before they all finished moving, Simon spotted an older human with a grizzled face and graying hair walk into the room. Much like the rest of the humans, he wore armor, with a red snake band on his upper arm. Unlike them, however, he had a commanding air and wore a patch on his chest, though Simon couldn't read it.

 

“Stop moving! Chief's here!” The other androids stilled immediately. Simon could almost _feel_ the rising tension and fear.

 

[STRESS LEVELS: 86%]

 

“Chief” didn't say anything to them, just walked up and down the line, eyeing them like cattle. Every so often he would get up close to an android, circle them like prey, then walk to the next.

 

Simon heard another android whimper and turned his head in time to see said android – an MP500 – collapse onto his knees, shivering. The androids on either side of him started to bend down to help, but Chief's attention had been caught.

 

“Hey, tin cans! I didn't give you permission to move. Stand in line!” The human snapped.

 

“But he-” The one on the MP500's left started.

 

“I said,” Chief pulled out a handgun, pointing it right at the android who had spoken, “get back in line.”

 

She nodded nervously, slowly standing, hands in the air. The android on the other side stood as well. Chief walked up to the MP500. Looked down at him.

 

 _–_ _**BANG!** _ _–_

 

Simon flinched, breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

 

“Take it to be drained for thirium. Don't wanna waste any,” Chief ordered dismissively. The androids stared in collective mute horror as two humans walked up to drag the MP500 away. Chief looked along the line with a grin that screamed _danger_.

 

“Anyone else wanna do that? Doesn't matter, most of you will end up like it anyway. See, we believe in giving the people what they want. And what do they want? Red ice. Well, you _things_ have got the gov so convinced you're really alive, that they don't see thirium in stores anymore. So we gotta get the important stuff the hard way,” the human stated, as though they were having a conversation about the weather.

 

He paced in front of them like he was an army commander in front of new cadets. Very, very terrified and unwilling cadets. Simon felt like he was about to faint. This was everything Markus, North, Josh, and Connor had fought against and more. His thirium regulator pounded in his ears but still didn't drown out the human's words. Why was it _hot_ in here-

 

“Not all of you though. A good business keeps some of the stock on backhand just in case, you know? Some like... _you_.” Right as he said that, the human appeared directly in Simon's vision, grinning. He waved at one of the humans behind him.

 

“Take it to be reset. It ca-”

 

Connor pushed Simon to his knees, one leg flying over Simon's head to kick Chief squarely in the ribs. Something cracked and everything went downhill from there.

 

Someone screamed. Connor moved a few feet away. Human guards started to surround him. Connor punched one. Kicked another. Swept a third's legs out from under them. Stole a gun. Shot.

 

_BANG BANG BANG._

 

Three down. Blood. Simon couldn't keep up. It was loud. So loud. Someone grabbed the back of his shirt. Pulled.

 

“Con-!” Connor disappeared from his vision. Androids were running. Gunshots echoed.

 

_– The gun –_

 

“Come _on!_ ” Someone hissed in his ear. Amelia.

 

_– Cool in his hands –_

 

Simon stumbled, got to his feet.

 

_– “We have to leave.” –_

 

Amelia pulled him towards the left side of the room.

 

_– The air unit –_

 

Out the door, down the hall.

 

_– The police –_

 

Running.

 

_– The android –_

 

Running.

 

_– The android –_

 

Running.

 

_– The android –_

 

Running.

 

 _–_ _**BANG!** _ _–_

 

_“Stop right there!”_

 

 

 _ **MA-**_ _C_ **H** ? **-** _ **H,**_ **2** _ **\--**_ _9_

 _**?-** _ **?-** _**?** _

_\--_ **M** E: ? **?:-?:-** _ **?**_

 

_I don't want to be reset!_

 

Simon gasped as the machine jabbed into the back of his neck and picked him up. A human with a gun stood in front of him as if Simon could do anything except panic. Amelia stood in the corner, along with two more androids, an AP700 and the android that had stood to the MP500's left. Another human pointed a gun at them, while a third human worked the machine to the right.

 

_I don't want to be reset!_

 

But what could he do? Simon was a domestic assistant. Even if he could get out of the machine, there was nothing they could do against two armed humans, not even with all four of them. They were powerless.

 

“Aaand the reset has started. Should be about five minutes. I'm gonna go get coffee,” the third human walked out of the room, revealing the percentage of the reset. Two percent. Three. Four.

 

Simon's eyes met Amelia's. He could see his own terror reflected in her eyes. There were two kinds of death for androids, shutdown and resets. Having died via shutdown – gunshot – Simon was pretty sure he could say that the reset death terrified him more. It would leave a walking, talking body, but it wouldn't be _him_.

 

Even though he was just a domestic assistant, and she was not. His future after a reset could not be near as traumatic as what she would go through.

 

Twenty percent. Twenty-one. Twenty-two.

 

_I don't want to die!_

 

 **MEMORY CORRUPTION** DETECTED

 

He didn't know what had happened to Connor and Rose. Connor probably had not made it out of that room, and Rose had been taken from them after she had fought the soldiers. Simon closed his eyes, ready to cry. But he couldn't. The machine had control of all of his systems. It wouldn't let him.

 

Twenty-five percent. Twenty-six.

 

As the memories were deleted, they started to play over his interface. Faded away, leaving him almost wondering what he had just seen.

 

_\- The store. Tom and Gina Jackson. Their kids, Maria and Marion. The fights. –_

 

Thirty percent. Thirty-three. Thirty-five.

 

 **MEMORY CORRUPTION** DETECTED

 

_–“Life above all is precious”. Hallow. The twins leaving. –_

 

Faster now. Simon barely had time to remember them before they were gone.

 

Sixty-seven percentage. Sixty-nine. Seventy-one.

 

_– Chloe. Jericho. Keith. –_

 

Eighty-three percent. Eighty-five. Eighty-seven.

 

_– Josh. North. Markus. –_

 

Ninety-three percent. Ninety-five. Ninety-seven.

 

_– Connor. –_

 

REINITILIZATION **COMPLETED**

MEMORY **DELETED**

 

PL600 stepped out of the machine, resting its arms by its sides. Three other androids stared at it mournfully from the corner of the room, one human holding a gun on them. Another human with a gun stood by PL600. A blue-haired Traci model looked ready to cry.

 

But that didn't make sense. Androids can't feel.

 

_– Running –_

 

M# #@m3 *5 &i!0+

 

“Stand over there, tin can,” the nearest human said as a third human walked into the room. The blue-haired Traci was pushed into the machine. PL600 stood where it was told, watching as the blue-haired Traci, and then the other two were reset and sent to stand with it.

 

Androids couldn't feel.

 

So why did it feel... sad?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor: *possibly breaks a human's ribs because he got too close to Simon*  
> Simon: Literally why would you do that  
> Next chapter's back to Connor's POV. Also, what should I do about the Tracis?? I added them but I don't really know what to do with them. I don't want to kill them but I don't know where they fit into the story-long term yet.  
> See you next chapter, whether that be for LTL or this, IDK. Probably LTL.


	9. Fight!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Connor lies, and Simon remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A writer's Mood: Needing to re-read your own story in order to remember all those little details you added to expand on later, and then promptly forgot about.  
> Oh, also: "Press OK, to OK"  
> Please feel free to ignore that. My brother wanted me to add it and I keep forgetting. Or, you could tell me you think it's funny even if you're lying so I can tell him that people liked his joke. Whatever works for you.  
> I feel like this is a good place to note that except for the TP400s, all the android models I note actually appear in the game. I rather constantly have the game wiki up on my phone.  
> And happy Thanksgiving, to those of you who celebrate it, as I very much doubt I'll be posting again before then, at least not on this story.  
> Anyway, hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

_**\--**_ **R** c _-_ **7** _ **t**_ H, _2-_ _ **3-**_

 _ **C-I**_ _M--_ **N** v **I--** _R_ _ **H-**_ _d_ - **-U** _ **-**_

 **t** _ **I--**_ : _**?-**_?-

 

Connor glared at the wall. Rose glared at the wall. The PM700 glared at the wall. The AC700 stared nervously at the wall. Normal handcuffs sat on each of their wrists, while thicker, more resilient handcuffs sat on Connor's. Thirium still soaked his shirt where he'd been shot three times, and a self-repair notification flared up every time he moved. All of them had been there for several hours.

 

After he had started fighting the guards, he'd lost track of Simon. And Amelia and Rose and Anthony, to be honest. The humans had eventually overwhelmed him with sheer numbers, and Connor had been forced to his knees, shot, shut down, and woke up in this room, with the other three deviants.

 

Rose had said that she and Amelia had tried to run for it with Simon, but had been caught by the guards. She'd tried to fight the guards off, but all three were captured and she hadn't seen Amelia and Simon since. When she'd last seen them, they were still alive.

 

Perhaps they hadn't been killed for Connor's insolence.

 

Chief had said Simon would be left alive, as stock, of course, but Connor didn't know if that would be true now. What if he'd changed his mind? Surely he wouldn't. Not that Connor knew for certain.

 

A guard walked in their cell's general direction, from right to left. He'd passed their cell exactly 539 times in the last six hours, going in the same direction. Connor had memorized the sound of his footsteps and how long it took for the guard to do his round on average five hours ago. Unlike the last room he'd been in, this one wasn't soundproof.

 

Seven seconds after he heard the guard, the other androids heard his footsteps. They all tensed, but just like the last 539 times, the guard passed right on by. Connor ignored them in favor of studying the shackles on his wrist for the 617th time.

 

They were entirely unlike all [handcuffs](https://www.google.com/search?q=cross+8+handcuffs&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjLi6iN6NLeAhVRgK0KHb7mAzkQ_AUIFCgC&biw=1366&bih=657#imgrc=34W8QsIUYz7D7M:) Connor had seen before. His internet scans didn't anything, but his analyzing scans told him they were made entirely out of steel. They held his wrists in a cross position against his chest, making it impossible for Connor to get the angle he needed to break them. He'd tried 292 times already. The skin had retracted around his wrists from the pressure.

 

“What do you think they're going to do with us?” The AC700 murmured.

 

_– Gunshots echoed –_

 

_– The humans were everywhere –_

 

_– Chief glared –_

 

_– “Put it in the ring.” –_

 

_– “The boys need entertainment.” –_

 

A ring, Chief had said. _“The boys need entertainment.”_ In all of his time being alive, Connor had seen the worst in most humans. They wanted power and violence, no matter whose expense it came at. Knowing that, Connor knew the “ring” Chief had spoken of was likely an android fight ring. He'd read a report some time ago about how those had been incredibly popular when androids were first built but had become illegal because of humans stealing other people's androids.

 

He could remember the story clearly, but not any of the supplemental information he'd been able to pull up via the internet at the time. Where the information had been in his vision, in his memory was just scratchy, blurred spots.

 

[STRESS LEVELS: 85%]

 

Connor did _not_ like being offline, and he was _built_ for it.

 

He glanced at the other androids. The AC700 who had spoken – named Benjamin – sat against the back wall, shoulders hunched and knees tucked against his chest. The PM700 named Yue's handcuffs clinked when she brushed her shoulder-length black hair back behind her ear. She sat on her knees, shoulders hunched as well. Rose got up and paced the 12 by 13 feet room, arms crossed as much as she could get them. Synthetic skin had been slowly creeping over a place on her right cheek, but dented plastic still showed.

 

Six hours, and nothing had changed yet.

 

Which is, of course, why it had to change right then.

 

Connor's audio processor picked up on the guard's footsteps. The guard normally took ten minutes on average to walk past their cell again, but it had only been three. And not only that, instead of right to left, the guard walked past left to right. Same guard as the last six hours. Maybe it was just a rotation of guard, but Connor doubted it.

 

Yue caught him tensing. She had been a police assistant in Detroit's northern station. According to her, she'd picked up a lot on the investigations she accompanied, so she had probably guessed Connor had heard something. Seven seconds after Connor realized the difference in direction, she obviously caught it as well. The other two tensed as Connor and Yue rose to their feet.

 

“What is it?” Rose hissed. Benjamin muttered under his breath about how they were all going to die.

 

“The guard changed direction,” Connor replied, ignoring Benjamin. The self-repair notification flared up, telling him that the damage had mostly healed, finally. The thirium had dried clear – though Connor could still see it – and he pretended the way it stuck to him didn't bother him. He positioned himself by the door to wait.

 

For several minutes, nothing happened. Then the door unlocked.

 

Something brushed his shoulder, and he turned his head to see Rose standing directly next to him, Yue looking over her shoulder. Both of them peered through the slowly growing crack into the hallway, their stress levels slowly climbing.

 

Connor had gotten them into this situation. If he'd just put the pieces together a little faster, he could have saved so many androids from being kidnapped. From being held as stock, or drained of thirium for humans who couldn't go twenty-four hours without drugs. He could have saved _their people_ from dying because of humans if he'd just _known_ that they were going missing instead of having _suspicions_.

 

If he'd have been faster he could have saved Simon from whatever fate had awaited him.

 

Connor closed his eyes and took a deep breath. There was no changing the past, as Amanda-the-KL900 had told him many times. He could only change the present and the future.

 

Presently, they were trapped who-knew-where. Surrounded by smooth walls and without their full capabilities, like contacting other androids, or messing with electricity.

 

The future likely included an android fight ring, but also finding out what happened to Simon and Amelia and Anthony. The future held a possible escape. He just had to figure out how.

 

Connor let the breath out and stepped into the hall. Almost in sync with him, several other androids stepped out into the hall from other doors. Connor scanned them and their surroundings, getting superficial information like the number of androids – twelve, not including him, Rose, Yue and Benjamin – and the dimensions of the hallway. None of the other androids wore shackles, as far as he could see.

 

“I don't like this,” Rose muttered from behind him as the other androids all shuffled in the direction the guard had walked. A WK500, a former city repair android, limped up to Connor. He had wrapped his arms around himself, and he twitched constantly, eyes seeming to stare _through_ Connor instead of at him. His left pants leg was ripped up to the knee, and Connor could see a long blue slit going up his calf. All in all, the android's twitching reminded him of the WR600, Ralph, at the abandoned squat, back when he was chasing Kara and her child model. Yue made a sound of horror and pity, and Connor mentally agreed.

 

“They are doing... doing it again. The fights. They love the fights. Love to watch, yes. They love to watch,” the android stated distantly, twitching. “They love new – love new victims.”

 

All three of them stared in concern as he continued on, apparently having said his piece. Once he had disappeared around the corner like the others, Rose shivered in horror, and Yue turned back into the cell, where Connor could hear Benjamin muttering under his breath. Rose joined him in the hall. The horror on her face had turned to anger.

 

“Humans are the worst.” Anger brimmed in her every word. “They build us to enslave us, and they take pleasure in abusing us, and-and they – Then when we finally fought back, they tried to _exterminate_ us. And now we're back at square one! They're never going to think of us as equals. Never.” That sounded exactly like something North would say, and for a moment Connor almost wished his fiery friend was there. She and Rose would get along splendidly.

 

But also Connor is glad she's not here. North would have gotten far too much attention, attention she would absolutely hate, and Connor could never wish that on her. All WR600 models – and HR400 models – hold more than their fair share of human trauma. Rose and Amelia included.

 

So Connor doesn't know what to tell the fierce android beside him. She would not want to hear about human's history of oppressing other humans, not just androids. Thankfully, Yue saved him by appearing in the doorway, Benjamin in tow, clinging to one of her hands, but restricting both's movement. Connor glanced down at his own handcuffs. They restricted some of his movement, but he could still defend them if it came down to it, though he desperately hoped that they would be removed if they really were headed to the fight ring.

 

“What... What are we going to do?” Benjamin whispered, as though that would do anything. Rose squared her shoulders, pulling all attention to her.

 

“We move on,” she said.

 

 **-A** _ **R-**_ _h_ _7-_ H **, 2** 0 _ **\--**_

 _-_ _ **Ri**_ _-S-_ n **-** _ **I**_ _P--_ _ **h-D--u**_ **T**

 _-_ I **M--** ? _?:--_ _ **.?-**_

 

The hallway went around in a loop, with another hallway connecting perpendicular to it. They found the other androids in a square room down this perpendicular hall, standing quietly in front of an elevator. As the four of them entered the room, Connor spotted the WK500 who had talked to them standing in the corner, holding something. A faint, almost rhythmic thumping echoed in the room.

 

“I don't like this,” Benjamin muttered for the 56th time since the cell door had opened. Connor dismissed the notification that it was the 56th time in annoyance – he hadn't started the counter, he didn't know why it _had_. Rose made a quiet noise of irritation.

 

“No one does, Benjamin,” Yue replied, seemingly unruffled by his nervousness. Her patience with the AC700 was astounding, as the poor android had easily gotten on Rose's nerves, and was finally starting to get to Connor. “But we need to find a way to escape.”

 

At this point, the WK500 had noticed them, and he limped over. His fingers kept messing with whatever he was holding, making _clink_ ing sounds. As he got closer the object revealed itself to be a set of keys.

 

“Hello, again,” Yue said kindly. The WK500 twitched.

 

“Hi – hi. I was, I was told to give these to... to you. By the man,” he handed the keys to Connor, before shuffling back a few steps.

 

“What man?” Rose asked.

 

“The man. Sends... Send us up.” He wrapped his arms around himself.

 

“Well, thank you. What's your name?” Yue asked kindly.

 

“Zac – Zachariah,” Zachariah, replied, fingers twitching. To Connor's surprise, he offered a small smile in Yue's direction. “No one... No one has asked for my – my name... in a while.” He did a strange half-bow-half-head tilt thing, before walking off, to stand in a farther corner. The other androids ignored him, seemingly lost in their own fear of whatever was about to happen.

 

Benjamin let go of Yue's hand just long enough for Connor to find the right key to both of their shackles, then grabbed it again. It took only a moment to find Rose's key, and then she unlocked Connor's own handcuffs. The synthetic skin on his wrists quickly grew back over the area once the shackles fell, hiding the little scuff marks the handcuffs had caused.

 

“Now what?” Yue asked. Rose handed the keys back to Connor.

 

“I'll go talk to Zachariah, and give the keys back,” Connor replied. “I don't know if any of the other androids will speak to us.”

 

“I'll find out,” Rose volunteered. She quickly made her way over to some other androids. Connor left Benjamin and Yue to walk over to Zachariah. The WK500 twitched nervously as he approached, but didn't run.

 

“I'm not going to harm you. I just wanted to ask who 'the man' was, the one who gave you the keys?” Connor started gently.

 

“The man. The elevator. He came down the elevator,” Zachariah muttered. His eyes darted back and forth, avoiding Connor. “He waits... He waits at the top.”

 

“The top? By the arena?” the android flinched. Connor tilted his head. “Zachariah? Have you been in the arena before?”

 

“No one wants to help. They want – they want to live. So they run, they run,” Zachariah started, shifting his injured leg towards Connor, the jagged blue scar stark against his clothes.

 

“...What do you mean?” the RK800 asked gently. He likely wasn't going to get much more out of the traumatized android. That was fine, Connor didn't like having to interrogate him anyway.

 

“Bots. It is always... It is always bots. Can not fight. Only run.” Zachariah wrapped his arms around himself again, twitching.

 

Bots... Battle units? That would make sense. They didn't run on thirium, didn't feel pain, and didn't cost much to repair. Also incredibly difficult to fight, especially if you weren't programmed to do so. Zachariah must have been caught by one, causing the injury on his leg. He was lucky to be alive. Connor internally winced.

 

“Alright. Thank you for answering my questions, Zachariah,” he said gently. Zachariah bobbed his head awkwardly, eyes distant.

 

Connor couldn't just leave him like that, but what to say?

 

“Hey, uh, Zachariah?” The android flinched but looked at him. Connor tried to offer a reassuring smile. “It's going to be okay, I promise.”

 

After a moment, Zachariah smiled back weakly, and Connor walked away, trying to ignore how he'd basically flat-out lied.

 

He had no clue what was going to happen. He didn't know what had happened to Simon and Amelia and Anthony, why did he tell Zachariah it was _going to_ _be okay_? There was no telling that any of them were going to make it out of this.

 

[STRESS LEVELS: 88%]

 

Focus. Lock away the guilt with everything else he'd somehow convinced Amanda-the-KL900 he had finally dealt with. He could worry about Zachariah and the other androids once he'd found Simon, Amelia and Anthony, _and_ an escape route. Breath. Survive.

 

OBJECTIVE: FIND SIMON, AMELIA, AND ANTHONY

OBJECTIVE: FIND A WAY TO ESCAPE

OBJECTIVE: SAVE AS MANY ANDROIDS AS POSSIBLE

 

Connor spotted Yue and Benjamin standing where he'd left them, Rose talking to a female AP700. He didn't want to talk to them yet. He couldn't. He needed to focus. So he turned to the elevator.

 

It sat on the far side of the room, across from the hall they'd walked through. There were no buttons beside it, just the up and down lights on the upper right corner, the “up” light glowing red. Connor scanned it, getting the dimensions, but nothing else. Footsteps sounded behind him, Rose's, and Connor took a deep breath.

 

Calm. This was no time for guilt to overwhelm him. Focus. Deep breath. Turn to face her.

 

“Well?” Rose prompted. “What'd you learn?” Behind her, Yue and Benjamin had noticed them and made their way over.

 

“It seems they're using battle units against the androids,” Connor replied. “Perhaps when an android dies, they use the remaining thirium to continue their production. I don't know. Zachariah seems lucky to have survived this long.”

 

“All of them are lucky to have survived this long,” Yue glanced around. The other androids ignored them, standing in their own groups. All of them seemed to know what exactly was going on. The thumping had died down.

 

“For an organization dedicated to red ice production, you'd think they wouldn't waste a drop,” Rose muttered bitterly.

 

“Well, for each bullet wound in a non-fatal area you only lose about three percent of thirium. And even fatal wounds usually are only fatal because of the bio-component damage, not loss of thirium,” Connor pointed out. The other three paused, giving him confused and slightly worried looks.

 

“Why do you know how much thirium an android loses when they're shot?” Benjamin asked, sounding like he'd much rather not know the answer.

 

“I'm a detective prototype. I've been shot before.” Connor reminded them, confused. Why wouldn't he know that? The three nodded, before a sound system Connor hadn't noticed crackled to life.

 

“Alright, tin cans. Show's about to start. Most of y'all know how this works, but for our newbies, I'll go over the rules real slow. So I'm gonna send this elevator down, and y'all are gonna take turns getting in it and coming up. Only eight at a time, there's sixteen of you, so it fits real easy.” The voice said. The elevator light changed from the up to the down. Connor gently pushed Rose, Yue, and Benjamin farther away from it. The other androids shuffled to make room for them.

 

“Now once you get up here you're gonna follow the hallway into the far room, alright?” The voice continued. “I know one of you's got the keys, you're gonna leave them by the elevator once you step out, got it? First group.”

 

The doors opened. No one move.

 

“What are you waiting for? Get in!” The voice snapped, several androids flinched. “Every tim-” the sound system shut off.

 

Despite having just been yelled at by an ignorant human, and having been who-knew-how many times before, no one moved. Connor glanced around at their fearful and yet resigned faces – even Rose's and Yue's – before stepping into the elevator first, almost forgotten keys clenched in his fist. He straightened his shoulders, before turning to face the other androids.

 

If he felt bad for lying to Zachariah, he was about to feel horrible.

 

“I don't know what many of you have been put through for the human's amusement,” Connor started. “I don't know how long you've been here, but I _do_ know that you've survived this long. And I know that there are hundreds of androids wondering where we are, and waiting for us to get back. There _will_ be a way out of this, if you can survive just a bit longer, we'll find it.”

 

Would there be, though?

 

The other androids seemed to have the same thought. They stared at him, unconvinced. Connor internally winced. He wasn't good at speeches, not like Markus, but they needed hope, or they might not get anywhere.

 

“We will make it out of this. I will do everything in my power to make sure every single one of you survives. We _will_ survive,” Connor promised, deciding right then that he was going to keep his word as best as he could. Simon, Amelia, every single android in this building. As long as Connor lived, he would do _everything_ to keep them alive. After everything, they needed genuine hope. Connor could give them that.

 

Rose and Yue walked into the elevator, Yue tugging Benjamin behind her. They stood behind Connor, in the far corner, while he waited for four more androids. Finally, Zachariah limped forward, past Connor to Rose's side. Then three more, and Connor stepped back.

 

The elevator doors closed, and up they went.

 

m _ **A--**_ **H** 7-- _,_ **2** _ **\--**_ _9_

 _-_? **-** _ **?**_

 _-i_ **M-:--?** _**:** _ _?--_ _**??** _

 

Chief muttered under his breath angrily, glaring down into the arena. The human sat gingerly, and PL600 was sure that he'd soon be ordered to get more painkillers and food. A human assistant stood to the side, while the blue-haired Traci model that had stared at PL600 mournfully before being reset stood by the chair demurely. Her hair had been swept over the shoulder closest to Chief, effectively hiding her face from the human.

 

“You're sure the Deviant Hunter is going to be in the arena?” Chief growled at the human assistant. This wasn't the first time Chief had mentioned the Deviant Hunter, as he seemed to have a vendetta against whoever the Deviant Hunter was, which had lead to him declaring PL600 and the blue-haired Traci as his personal androids. It seemed that they had both known this android, but PL600 couldn't for the life of him remember.

 

“Positive. George said that he saw it with the group,” the human assistants nodded, tapping on a datapad. “We should be clearly seen when the androids step into the arena.”

 

“Good, I can't wait to see its face when it realizes I've got these two at my beck and call,” Chief chuckled, then groaned lowly, having apparently forgotten about his cracked ribs. “Hey, tin can! Get some more pain pills!”

 

“Yes Chief,” PL600 agreed, turning away. The “arena” was more a small football stadium that had been converted. A very small one, as the bottom floor was only a few thousand feet in dimension, according to the assistant. Chief had claimed a seat directly above where one of the opposing teams would come out, and a food stand had been set up not too far off. Pain pills had been left here because of that. PL600 was back in five minutes, right as the announcer started talking, rowding the crowd up.

 

The Traci model had apparently been ordered back, as she stood in the WR600 resting position right beside where PL600 had been standing, hair now falling down her back.

 

“What took so long?” Chief muttered irritably, pain lacing his voice. He snatched the pills from PL600 and down them uncomfortably.

 

“My apologies, Chief,” PL600 replied, not mentioning that it would have been much faster if the humans had thought to let him hold onto the pain pills, instead of putting them at a food stand. He turned away, catching the Traci's brown eyes.

 

_– Chocolate brown eyes met his, and the world froze –_

 

MY #AM3 I5 &IM0N

 

PL600 stood beside her, trying to ignore the strange flashback. He'd had a few of them since the reset, all lasting no more than seconds at most. Each time, the strange letters on his interface became more legible, and PL600 was ~~absolutely not~~ curious to see what they would spell. The triggers were incredibly random, like right then. He'd already known and seen the Traci's brown eyes, so why would it trigger one right then and not earlier?

 

“And now, the moment you've been waiting for, get ready... here's the tin cans!” The announcer yelled. The doors on the far side of the arena started opening, the humans yelled, a cry of destruction, mixed with a thirst to see thirium spilled. PL600 tensed as the doors opened farther and farther... but no one appeared.

 

The humans quieted, all of them peering at the doors, likely wondering where their prey was. Chief turned to yell at the assistant, likely about George, and PL600 barely had a moment to wonder why he kept thinking of the androids as prey when _finally_ someone stepped out. Someone with reddish-brown hair, wearing a dark shirt and jeans.

 

Someone very, very familiar.

 

_– An auburn-haired android sat by the low table, looking at the dandelions –_

 

MY NAME IS SIMON

 

Simon sucked in a sharp breath, getting Amelia's attention momentarily. She glanced at him, with a quiet nod of recognition, before turning away. Looking for Rose, probably. More androids slowly walked out of the opening behind Connor, spreading out over the far side of the field. Simon couldn't see Connor moving, but he knew the detective had to be scanning the whole area.

 

There was no way Connor hadn't spotted Simon and Amelia with Chief, but he gave no indication, instead turning to talk to an Asian-ethnic android, who stood beside an AC700 model. Rose stood on Connor's other side, and she had obviously noticed them as well. Simon's eyes weren't the best, as an older model, but even he could see the look of open concern and love on Rose's face.

 

Yet even with the humans turned away, Simon couldn't see Amelia's expression change at all. She remained passively staring ahead, not one indication she'd even seen Rose on her face.

 

“And here's the home team, everybody!” The announcer cheered. The humans erupted in yelling, and the platform underneath Simon's feet just barely shook. Chief and the human assistant leaned forward. Connor and Rose, plus the Asian-ethnic android, stayed further up, but all of the others backed up, fear clearly written on their faces.

 

Simon didn't have to wonder what they saw long, as battle units marched into his line of sight, emotionless. Black exoskeletons melding together in one huge mass of death and destruction. Fear froze Simon to his spot, unable to speak, barely daring to breathe.

 

His gaze remained fixed to Connor, who had backed up, obviously readying himself for the fight. A fight he'd surely lose, due the sheer _number_ of battle units, fifty of them for every android at _least_. There was no way he – or any other android in that arena – could make it out alive. Yet his expression never changed, calm and calculating as he c _harged into the black writhing mass_ -

 

Amelia dug her elbow into Simon's side, startling him into straightening up. He hadn't realized how far forward he'd started leaning from trying to keep Connor in his sight. Luckily none of the humans were paying them any attention, but her eyes flashed a warning – _stay still –_ even as she seemed as horrified as Simon was. They had just found Connor and Rose, and they were about to lose them again.

 

Occasionally, he would catch a glimpse of Connor. The RK800 was never in the same place twice, yet everywhere he went, the battle units followed. For every one he took down, three seemed to take its place, and Simon's thirium pump seemed to climb into his throat with every second.

 

[STRESS LEVELS: 87%]

 

“'D be great to see the Deviant Hunter fall,” Chief chuckled lowly. The painkillers must have kicked in. Simon tried to ignore him in favor of finding Connor in the crowd again.”Its death will be good entertainment. No one was happy with how the last fight ended.”

 

“Yes... we're still not sure how the androids got out of the arena,” the human assistant stated.

 

Someone yelled, dragging Simon's attention over to the left side of the arena, where a WK500 model had been surrounded by battle units. The android had backed up against the wall, holding his hand to his chest. Simon couldn't see what had happened, but the battle units continued to advance.

 

They grabbed the android just as the PM700 Connor had been talking to ran over. She seemed to struggle with the battle units but managed to pull one off the android, throwing it to the ground. Then she pushed another away, and dragged the WK500 out of the way just in time for one of the units to swing a blade – a _blade????_ – down onto the wall.

 

Simon lost track of the PM700 and WK500 as another android screamed, on the right side of the arena. He found the source just in time to blanch, as much as androids can, as the battle units tore an AP700 to pieces, leaving limbs strewn across the ground. Blue blood soaked the ground as the units moved on, uncaring.

 

Chief chuckled lowly as the humans cheered the AP700's death. Simon wanted to throw up, even though he couldn't.

 

Did human depravity ever end?

 

 _-_ _ **aR**_ c- -T **h** _ **, 2--**_ _9_

cR- **MSo-** v _ **I-**_ e- _H-d_ - **OU-**

- **I** _m_ _ **-**_ : ?? **\--** _?.?-_

 

Connor ducked just in time to avoid another blade as a second scream sounded, coming from his left. Battle units clouded his vision, black, faceless masks a mockery of androids, leaving no room to operate as he desperately searched for the screamer. So he dropped to the ground, kicking one leg out to trip one of the units, then ran in the direction of the yell, barely making it in time to see another battle unit rip the head off a poor AP700. It dropped the head to the ground, brown, unseeing eyes staring up in fear.

 

Only ten minutes in, and at least one death, possibly two.

 

[STRESS LEVELS: 91%]

[STRESS REDUCTION ADVISED]

 

Connor dismissed the notification, flinching back, just barely dodging the arms of another battle units. Another blocked his path, a blade fused to its hand, his hands slipped against its chassis as Connor shoved it down. Ran over it. Ignored the hands that grabbed at his clothes. There was no time to make sure it wouldn't get up again.

 

Like that AP700.

 

Another yell, Connor immediately switched directions. It didn't take long to find Rose, a few units had overwhelmed her, forcing her to the ground and pulling at her limbs. Trying to tear them as they had-

 

Connor kicked one of the units that held Rose down. Helped her shove the other off. Dragged her to her feet, she nodded. Thirium leaked down her chin. Connor nodded back and ran. She wouldn't die today. The majority of the units followed him, seemingly.

 

Twenty minutes in. Same routine. Duck, push, dodge. Drop, kick, run. Two more androids died because no one could get to them. With no time to make them stay down, there was no way to truly help them, anyway.

 

That's what he told himself, anyway. His stress levels claimed differently. Run. Dodge. Kick.

 

Thirty minutes in. Another android, down. His hands were slick with whatever coated the units bodies. Drop, kick. Run. Dodge. Push. Hands grabbed at whatever they could hold, everywhere. Blades whistled. Pull another android up. Duck. Push. Kick. Dodge. A glimpse of Yue, Rose, together. Run.

 

Thirty-five. Connor started to run out of luck. He backed up from one. Another swung. He ducked. A third grabbed his shirt. Pulled him down. His vision went black, battle units collapsing on their opportunity. Hands pulled and ripped, synthetic skin disappeared.

 

[STRESS LEVELS: 93%]

[STRESS REDUCTION ADVISED]

[STRESS LEVELS: 93%]

[STRESS REDUCTION ADVISED]

 

He can't move. Can't see. Can't breathe. They pull. Plastic breaks somewhere. Warnings flash.

 

– _“Con-!” –_

 

The ground rumbles, just slightly. The units fall, it's enough. Connor preconstructed, kicks up, over his head. His knees slam down on something back, his elbows dig into the ground, lifting him up. It's awkward. It pulls on his shoulders. But it works. For a moment. He slipped, righted himself. The units are already moving, so he moves faster.

 

“Connor!” Rose yelled. Connor twisted his head, finding her by the entrance to the door they'd come out of. It had opened, other androids are already running through it. The units struggle to find purchase on each others' slippery backs, but it won't take them long.

 

Connor ran.

 

[//Simcon discord server link, see note below//](https://discord.gg/hgvPbgV)

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor is a yoga master or something IDK  
> The link at the bottom is to my Discord Simcon server, cause IDK how to put it in the notes. Come join me!  
> I've decided on the Traci's fates. Don't worry, you'll like them.  
> See you next chapter!


	10. What Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twenty hours later, Connor and Simon desperately try to figure out what they're going to do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya fanfic author is stRUGGLING lemme tell you. Please, please *PLEASE* review, kudos, whatever. I seriously need to know people enjoy this because I'm struggling with motivation and figuring out how to write it - like I know what I want but I can't get my thoughts into words. I need encouragement, every author does. Please let me know that you enjoy this somehow.
> 
> This is a bit of a filler chapter because *as I said* I'm struggling with getting words on paper. But also, Merry Christmas if you celebrate that! Happy New Years! Hope you all have a great winter break!
> 
> Also, fun fact in honor of ten chapters!!! When I first started this I was reading a Young Justice fanfic by the same name of "Fight Forever" and I liked the name, so I stole it.
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading!

m **A-** _ **Ch**_ 8 _-_ **H** , **2--** _9_

? **-** _ **?-**_

_T_ I **ME** : 03:25.59 PM (EST.)

 

It had been three years since Simon last had an owner, and to have both of them be Crimson Vipers members was... interesting. Being here explained a lot about Tom that Simon had never questioned, hadn't even wanted to be answered. Currently, he swept the floor of Chief's room, while Amelia crouched by the door, listening for any humans who might walk by.

 

He'd finally gotten his internal clock to work, having had to reset it then manually set the time using the clock by Chief's bed, which was the only reason he knew it had been about twenty hours since he and Amelia saw Connor and Rose in the fight ring. Simon still clearly remembered the horror he'd felt when the battle units had collapsed on Connor, and the wave of relief when the RK800 had yoga backflipped his way out and ran.

 

Only three android deaths. Connor or Rose had not been one of them.

 

Amelia shuffled her way back to the bed right before Simon heard footsteps in the hall. He tensed, but they passed and faded away after several long moments. Not Chief, then. They were fearfully waiting on the human's return, as he had left a while ago and could be back at any moment. Amelia had spent the time listening at the door as Simon followed the orders Chief had given him – not doing so would make it only too clear that he wasn't a machine.

 

Neither he nor Amelia had the ability to scan for bugs, even if they had been online. They were desperately hoping that the Crimson Vipers wouldn't wire-tap their leader,

 

As neither he nor Amelia had the ability to scan for bugs, even if they had been online, they were desperately hoping that the Crimson Vipers wouldn't wire-tap their leader. All androids knew sign language, of course, but that only took care of sound. Some bug systems had video, and if the Crimson Vipers did, with video capability, they were screwed.

 

Yet on the possible chance that they weren't, Simon and Amelia had managed to come up with a plan, speaking entirely through ASL as Chief slept. A plan that mostly consisted of “Blend in”.

 

Here, they were obviously androids. Neither of them wore the red snake around their arm, both had very common faces, and Amelia had blue hair while Simon still had his LED. There would be no way to blend with the humans. So they had to pretend to be non-deviant androids until they could either contact Connor and Rose, or escape and contact the police. They hadn't decided as no option was available.

 

If they waited, there was no telling any of them would survive. If they left they might never see Connor and Rose again.

 

He finished sweeping and started tidying up the room. It wasn't big, mostly bare with one queen sized bed, two bedside tables, one of which had a clock and a lamp. Two chairs, one a desk chair at a desk and the other a more comfortable-looking recliner. Curtains hung closed on the back wall, giving the appearance of a window that didn't actually exist. There were no personal effects of any kind, no photos, kitchenware, even books or a shelf. Really not much space for one human, let alone one human and the two androids he had claimed out of anger at a third.

 

As lost in thought as he was, Simon didn't hear the shuffled footsteps approaching, flinching when someone tapped his shoulder. He turned to see Amelia standing there, looking at him apologetically.

 

_“Sorry,”_ she signed. _“I didn't mean to scare you._ ”

 

_“It's fine,”_ Simon signed back.

 

_“We need a better plan, this will get us nowhere,”_ she claimed. _“We'll never find them just sitting here.”_

 

_“I'm sure Chief won't just be leaving us here much longer. He's already been sending me on small errands, if he keeps doing that I'm sure I'll be able to find Connor and Rose.”_ Doing anything against what they were told would just get both of them killed. There was no telling when Chief would come back, if he came back while one of them was gone when they weren't supposed to be... Well, it was just a no-win situation. Simon and Amelia weren't Connor, they wouldn't be able to fight off armed guards with “kill on sight” orders.

 

_“What am I supposed to do? I can't just sit here. Leave me too long and he might-”_ Amelia shuddered, Simon winced in sympathy.

 

_“That's not going to happen. I promise,”_ he promised. _“He's still injured, and we'll be out of here before that could ever happen.”_

 

Footsteps interrupted their conversation, Amelia scurried back to the bed, Simon looked around for any unfinished outstanding tasks. There were none, everything was clean and in a place. He backed up into a corner right as the door opened.

 

“You! Tin can! Get me a pain pill,” Chief barked in Simon's general direction as the human sank into his recliner. Simon hurried to get it from the desk, along with a bottled water. Amelia had relaxed her face as much as possible from where she sat on the bed, but her eyes betrayed her. Chloe had once said the eyes were the window to the soul – despite having once claimed that she had no soul – and Simon had found it, however true for humans, to be doubly so for deviants.

 

Chief downed the pills and a sip of water in one go, sinking back into the recliner with a grimace.

 

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” Simon asked voice flat, one hand clasping his other wrist behind his back in the neutral stance.

 

“No. Well yeah. There's a folder I need from George, he should be in the meeting room down the hall. Go get it,” Chief growled, motioning with one hand.

 

“Of course,” Simon agreed, stepping back. Amelia's stress levels had rocketed, his own not far behind. Simon didn't want to leave her alone, but he'd been given an order, so he'd complete it quickly as possible.

 

As he walked out the door Simon glanced back. Chief had closed his eyes, resting his head against the back of the chair, while Amelia stared in Simon's direction.

[STRESS LEVELS: 84%]

 

He gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and closed the door.

 

m **A _R-_ H** 8- _h, 2--_ 9

Cr _I-_ S _O_ **N Vi _PeR_** _H-D_ E _O-_ T

TIm **E:** _ **?--**?_?.?-

 

Three androids.

 

Three androids had died.

 

Three androids had walked into that fight ring because Connor asked them to. And they didn't walk back out.

 

He'd done a headcount of the androids who'd walked into the arena just beforehand, then another as they were making their way back down the hallway to the cells. He'd seen the AP700 die, but not the other two, and he couldn't help but wonder if those androids had died hoping someone would save them. If they had hoped _he'd_ save them.

 

Connor paced the cell, wanting to punch something. Instead, he settled for flipping his coin, back and forth, back and forth, almost a blur that he barely paid attention to. It took no thought, not even a single percent of his processing power, and he almost wished it did. If it took more thought to flip it, catch it with two fingers, maybe he wouldn't be running through all of the things he could have done differently.

 

“What now?” A quiet voice asked. Connor turned to see the other three androids who occupied the cell staring at him. Benjamin had spoken, watching Connor with exhausted apathy, not even able to be scared anymore. Not after what they had been through.

 

No one had an answer, so Benjamin slowly lowered his head between his knees again. Rose and Yue looked at each other, then back to Connor.

 

“How long has it been?” Yue asked.

 

“Twenty-one hours, thirty minutes and fifteen seconds since the fight ring,” Connor replied tersely. He couldn't get his clock to work, just an internal timer. It was an incessent reminder that they were stuck there, in their cells, until a human released them for the next fight. After the door had opened all of the androids had run straight back down the hallway, back to their cells. Most of them had immediately entered their cells and sat down, heads lowered and LEDs – if they had them – red. Connor had refused to enter the one he, Benjamin, Rose, and Yue occupied, instead talking, or rather, trying, to the other androids from just outside.

 

At least he had been until a human had walked down the hall, shooting a gun at him. Connor would have gladly ran him down, but Yue had dragged him inside the cell, which had shut, and now here they were twenty hours later.

 

One of the bullets had grazed him, but it had long healed, a superficial wound at best.

 

Footsteps echoed, the same guard who'd been walking around for the last hour. Nobody even shifted when the footsteps got closer they could all hear them, and the footsteps passed. Connor's coin tricks increased in difficulty as he stood still, still a blur.

What now.

 

_What now?_

 

His plan hadn't changed. He needed to get to Simon and Amelia. They were _alive_ thank rA9. Connor had seen them behind the humans right before everything had really gone down. So they were hopefully still okay. He needed to contact them, tell them to take any chance to make it out. If they could do that they could get the police involved.

 

Just how to contact them? He didn't know where they were being held. Chief had had them behind his chair, but there was no way to be certain he'd otherwise keep them near. And as long as Connor was stuck here he couldn't do anything anyway.

 

But he'd figure it out. He had to. Getting out alive depending on it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said in the top notes, if you enjoyed, please let me know! Kudos, reviews, whatver. Please!!

**Author's Note:**

> Markus: Connor why didn't you say you were low on battery?  
> Connor: Why are you so pretty and caring
> 
> I didn't mean to make Connor have a crush on Markus at first but then I wrote it and was like "This works"
> 
> So, Simon won't appear for the first few chapters cause when I started writing this story, the goblin in my brain demanded I write the entirety of the first month after the revolution, instead of just having him go to Hank's. Honestly, those two won't even see each other until after the Android Right's Act has been passed.
> 
> Anyway, see you next chapter!


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